


rental boyfriend

by bespokenboy



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, College AU, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bespokenboy/pseuds/bespokenboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wonwoo lost all sight of dignity when he started college, but he’s never done anything this desperate to pay the bills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mingyu is much older than Wonwoo in this fic (~ 8 years). A lot of the other members' ages have been changed too.

“Thank you so much for coming here on such late notice,” Junhui tells Wonwoo as he hurriedly fixes his tie and slips on his loafers. “I just found out I had an early meeting at work, and Minghao needs help getting ready for school.”

 

“No problem, Mr. Wen,” Wonwoo mumbles, his voice still ragged from sleep. He’s calculating in his head, it’s 7:45 am right now, and Minghao’s elementary school bus leaves at 8:30, so there should be plenty of time for Wonwoo to make it back to campus before his 9 am class.

 

“Minghao’s still in bed right now. Make sure he has his lunch box and his shoes. His are the small shoes, with the strings,” Junhui says distractedly, gesturing towards the shoe rack. The explanation is somewhat redundant, since the only shoes lined up there are Junhui’s large dress shoes and Minghao’s tiny sneakers right next to them. 

 

“Got it,” Wonwoo yawns. 

 

“Here’s….$12. Is $12 okay? That’s all that I’ve got on me in cash right now,” Junhui apologizes, handing Wonwoo a crinkled stack of bills, mostly ones. 

 

“That’s more than enough,” Wonwoo says. He usually babysits for $8 an hour, so this tiny bonus means that he’ll be able to indulge in a self-pity latte from Starbucks today. “Thank you so much. Have a great day, Mr. Wen.”

 

Pain streaks along Wonwoo’s temple, a reminder of the near all-nighter he pulled to finish his programming assignment. He needs an Advil or a nap. Preferably both. But it’s time to help Minghao, his favorite little first grader, get ready for school.

 

“Minghao-ah,” Wonwoo murmurs, gently shaking the six year old by the shoulder. 

 

The boy’s mouth parts slightly, letting a thin strand of drool trickle out, but his eyes stay closed. Wonwoo can relate. 

 

“Minghao baobei,” Wonwoo tries again, using what Junhui calls his son. “Time to wake up.”

 

This time Minghao’s eyes slowly blink open, but he just glares at Wonwoo with an angry little baby pout. Wonwoo pouts back at him.

 

“Life’s tough, kiddo. I wouldn’t be out of bed right now either if I had my way. But we have to get you ready for first grade.”

 

Scooping Minghao into his arms, Wonwoo carries the boy from his bedroom to the bathroom and back to his bedroom and then to the kitchen, as he brushes Minghao’s teeth, washes his face, dresses him, and then pours milk into a bowl of cereal for the boy. 

 

Minghao sits at the breakfast table, still half asleep, with his spoon curled in his tiny fist. He doesn’t make a move to eat the cereal, which is quickly becoming soggy.

 

“Work with me here, buddy,” Wonwoo pleads. “You gotta eat your breakfast so you can be big and strong. And so you can make it through your day without fainting.”

 

At the word  _ fainting _ , Minghao tilts his head curiously.

 

“ _ Fainting _ is kind of like when you fall asleep, but you don’t really mean to,” Wonwoo explains. Then he frowns. “Except it’s terrible. You don’t want it to happen to you, trust me. How about some cartoons? Will you eat your breakfast if I put the TV on?”

 

Minghao nods excitedly, and Wonwoo chuckles, reaching down to ruffle his hair. Though he can be a handful sometimes, Wonwoo doesn’t mind babysitting the kid. Minghao is pretty cute for a little brat. Plus, Wonwoo likes helping out Junhui, who has it especially tough as a single dad.

 

The first channel that crackles on screen is a news channel showing scenes from a hurricane in the south. Noisy winds and flooding, buildings destroyed and cars drifting away. Minghao shuts his hands over his ears and screams until Wonwoo flips through the channels and finds a children’s station.

 

“Okay, okay, that was scary, but you’re okay now,” Wonwoo says, feeling especially sorry for Junhui if this is what he has to deal with on a daily basis. 

 

When it is time to wait outside for the bus, Wonwoo watches nervously as Minghao and his friends play a little too close to the curb for comfort. A few of the other moms waiting at the bus stop greet Wonwoo, he’s taken care of some of their kids before. They ask him if he’ll be around to babysit during winter break. 

 

“Probably,” Wonwoo shrugs. “I might be helping out a professor with a research project, but I’d love to babysit Seungkwan, or Hansol, or Chan. “

 

There’s also the simple fact that Wonwoo isn’t sure if he’ll be able to afford a plane ticket back home to Korea just for winter break. He could, of course, ask his parents but they’ve sacrificed so much to pay for his tuition that Wonwoo tries to be as self-sufficient as possible in every other regard. 

 

“Bus!” Wonwoo calls out to Minghao and Seungkwan, who are racing each other down the sidewalk. “Come back or the bus will leave without you guys!”

 

The bright yellow school bus rumbles to a halt, and Minghao spares Wonwoo a quick hug before clambering onto the bus. Once he’s seated, Minghao waves to Wonwoo through the window. 

 

Wonwoo glances down at his watch, 8:34. The bus was four minutes later than usual, but there should be plenty of time for Wonwoo to leisurely return to campus. He climbs into the driver’s seat of his car, a used Camry with a dent on the side. It’s a little ugly, but reliable and has served him well during the three years he’s had it.

 

But today, the engine only sputters when he turns his key in the ignition. “Please don’t do this to me,” Wonwoo begs futilely. “Please, not today.”

 

It’s no use. The car stubbornly refuses to respond, and Wonwoo has no choice but to call a tow truck. At this point it doesn’t even matter whether or not the school bus was four minutes late. At this point, Wonwoo doubts that he’ll even make it to class at all.

  
  
  
  


“Tough day?” Soonyoung asks when Wonwoo returns to their apartment that afternoon sulky and silent.

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo answers curtly. 

 

Soonyoung plops down on the ratty sofa they dragged out of a dumpster their freshman year. He offers Wonwoo a seat next to him and asks, “How bad?”

 

“Very.”

 

“I know you’re not an English major, Wonwoo, but I think you can do a bit better than that.”

 

Wonwoo lets out a deep groan, tilting his head back against the sofa cushion. “Car broke down, and my emergency fund was $300 too short for the repairs,” he explains. “Had to dip into my food budget. I got my car fixed, but I’m probably not eating for the next month.”

 

“Shit, I’m so sorry. That sucks, man. Anything I can do to help?”   
  


“Got any suggestions for making $300 before the fridge runs out?” Wonwoo asks sarcastically. 

 

“You could sell weed,” Soonyoung offers.

 

“What? No, that’s illegal.”

 

“You could sell your internal organs?”

 

“That’s even more illegal!” 

 

“How about becoming a rental boyfriend?”

 

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds illegal.”

 

“No listen,” Soonyoung insists, sitting up straighter. “It’s completely legit. You get paid to go on dates for like, $100 an hour. And your clients aren’t allowed to ask you to do weird stuff.”

 

Wonwoo frowns, suspicious of his roommate’s enthusiasm. “You seem to know a lot about this.”

 

“I tried to apply to be a rental boyfriend, but I didn’t pass the initial screening.”

 

“Because you were too sketchy?”

 

“No!” Soonyoung protests. “I wasn’t tall enough. They like their rental boyfriends tall and handsome apparently.” 

 

“ _ They _ as in?”

 

“Ummm, the clients?”

 

“I still can’t believe that anyone would pay $100 an hour for what, companionship? What kind of person would have that kind of money, or need?”

 

“I don’t know, rich, lonely people? I’m sure there are plenty of them out there who are too embarrassed to go to their rich people parties alone. I promise you, it’s not dangerous or illegal or anything. I’m just worried about you, Wonwoo. I don’t want you to end up starving. You’re so thin already that if you lose any more weight, you’ll diet yourself out of existence!”

 

“Okay,” Wonwoo sighs, touched by his friend’s concern. “I’ll try it out and see what happens. And just….don’t tell my parents, please. I don’t want them to think that I’m doing weird stuff to just pay for food.”

 

Soonyoung grins crookedly and says, “When have I ever told any of our parents about the weird stuff that we do?”

 

“Don’t get your hopes up too high either, who knows if anyone will even want me.”

 

“Of  _ course _ they will. You’ve got a nice face, that sex-me voice, and you’re like, idiotically tall, so it’s perfect.”

 

Wonwoo ignores the backhanded compliment and says, “Thanks, man. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

“Make a lot of better decisions, probably.”

 

“Probably,” Wonwoo agrees with a grin. 

 

_ So this is it _ , Wonwoo thinks later that evening when he’s holed up in his bedroom with a private tab open on his laptop. He pastes the link Soonyoung sent him, which takes him to an elegantly designed website featuring many photos of attractive young men. It at least appears legitimate, but Wonwoo isn’t sure if he entirely trusts Soonyoung’s perception of legitimacy. 

 

_ Name. Date of birth. Height. Weight _ . Wonwoo feels like he’s filling out paperwork for a doctor’s appointment, rather than a profile for a companionship website. These are the easy items, no room to overthink. It’s the open-ended questions that are harder.

 

Wonwoo stares blankly at the words  _ Hobbies _ and  _ Interests _ , uncomprehending, for a solid five minutes, wondering if there’s even a difference between the two. Under  _ Hobbies _ , Wonwoo types “music, video games, and movies,” and then under  _ Interests _ , he types “music, video games, and movies” again. Wonwoo frowns. That can’t be right. 

 

After laboring over the rest of the profile for another half hour (with the help of Soonyoung because Wonwoo can’t, for the  _ life _ of him, think of words to describe himself), Wonwoo looks for a photo of himself to upload to his profile. The one he finds is a photo that Soonyoung took of him when he wasn’t looking; a three-fourths profile in natural sunlight that makes Wonwoo’s skin look luminous. Unsmiling, Wonwoo looks much more serious than usual, his eyes cold and sharp. 

 

It doesn’t feel like him. Even though the lighting in the photo was  _ perfect _ and Soonyoung assured him that he looked sexy, Wonwoo has the nagging instinct that it doesn’t capture  _ him _ . It’s rare for Wonwoo to look that serious in real life, and he doesn’t want to give off the wrong impression online. Wonwoo searches through his camera roll for an older photo and finds one where he’s actually smiling, the corners of his lips curling upwards gently to reveal his entire top row of teeth. 

 

“Kinda dorky looking,” Soonyoung comments. “But it’s your choice.”

 

“It’ll do.”

 

Within twenty-four hours, Wonwoo’s profile is approved by the rental boyfriend agency. Within the end of the week, he receives a request for a video call from somebody named  _ Min _ . 


	2. Chapter 2

  
  


“Min, did you say?” Soonyoung asks curiously when Wonwoo breaks the news to him. “That could be anybody.” 

 

“Yeah, that’s all I know. I haven’t seen a photo or anything.”

 

“What if this  _ Min _ is a sexy housewife cheating on her aged billionaire husband?” Soonyoung wonders aloud.

 

“Soonyoung, you’re confusing porn with real life again.”

 

“My bad. So like, what if this Min person is actually a dude?”

 

Wonwoo shrugs. “I guess we’ll find out tonight after the video call.”

 

For some reason, the thought of the person being a man doesn’t bother Wonwoo as much as he thought it would.

 

Wonwoo is too nervous to eat more than a few bites of rice at dinner. His video call is at exactly 7 pm, which means that Wonwoo has at least half an hour to eat dinner and digest and relax before he meets….whoever is on the other end. Usually, Wonwoo finds comfort in scheduling his day down to the minute, but not even this assuages his nerves. 

 

“Hey,” Soonyoung says gently, noticing the untouched food in Wonwoo's bowl and his troubled expression. “We haven't run out of food yet. No need to be so frugal.”

 

Wonwoo gives him a tiny smile, and tries to finish his bowl. Without Soonyoung’s constant reminders to eat, Wonwoo probably wouldn't even remember to feed himself three times a day. 

 

6:55 pm, and Wonwoo is locked in his room, curtains drawn to block out distractions. He tries to remember every piece of advice he's been given about interviews.  _ Maintain eye contact, speak clearly, be yourself _ . But this isn't exactly and interview….is it?

 

Seconds tick down to the turn of the hour, and Wonwoo's throat is dry. His voice is extra raspy when he answers the call he receives at exactly 7 pm. 

 

“H-hello?” he greets a blank black screen. The video and audio of the caller on the other end are both on mute. Wonwoo almost fears that the connection is too poor until words appear in the chat box. 

 

_ Hello _ . 

 

“Hi?” Wonwoo says uncertainly, unsure of what is supposed to happen. He had been prepared for a video interview of some kind, but not being able to see or hear the other person is throwing him for a loop. 

 

_ Are you nervous, Wonwoo? _

 

Wonwoo smiles shyly, embarrassed that the other person could tell. For some reason, something about seeing his name on the screen—the sheer  _ intimacy _ of it—gets Wonwoo flustered as well.   

 

“Kinda, yeah,” he admits. 

 

_ Don't worry, this isn't an interview _ , the other person types, but it just throws Wonwoo into deeper confusion. If this isn't an interview, what is it?

 

As if his thoughts are written all over Wonwoo's face (they probably are), the words  _ Are you confused? _ show up on the screen. 

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says with a nervous little laugh. “Not sure of what to expect.”

 

_ I wanted to see your face and to hear your voice before deciding whether to hire you or not. This is standard procedure.  _

 

“Of course,” Wonwoo says, nodding in understanding. He suddenly feels foolish for being so worried, for thinking that he would have to do something weird for a stranger. 

 

_ If you don't mind, may I make a request? _

 

It might be Wonwoo's imagination, but somehow the other person sounds hesitant all of a sudden, sheepish even. 

 

“Y-yeah, I mean, no. I don't mind,” Wonwoo stutters. 

 

_ Can you take off your shirt? _

 

Wonwoo stares at the words, the meaning barely registering in his mind. He's suddenly aware that there's another person on the other side of the camera, watching him gawk at the instructions. Soonyoung's words resonate in his mind. _ It could be anyone _ . 

 

He's come so far already, there's no point in shying away now. Wonwoo has already sacrificed his dignity for the sake of quick cash, so he might as well go all the way. 

 

Wonwoo maintains eye contact with the camera as he unfastens his buttons and slips the shirt off his shoulders. He's completely unaware of how seductive he looks, which is why the next message catches him by surprise. 

 

_ Stunning. Thank you.  _

 

His pulse is racing, his imagination running wild with what he might be asked to do next. But to Wonwoo's faint disappointment, the next message that pops up just says,  _ That is all for today. I will be in touch.  _

 

The green light next to Wonwoo’s camera turns off, and the video call ends. For a few minutes, Wonwoo just sits there at his desk, reeling from the experience, deconstructing it in his mind. It sounded like the other person wanted to continue their correspondence, but at the same time the messages sounded too polite, detached. He could spend all night turning over the words in his mind, trying to make sense out of the vague messages. 

 

Wonwoo only resurfaces from the depths of over-thinking when he receives an email notification. An unnamed sender transferred fifty dollars to Wonwoo’s PayPal account with a message that reads,  _ Thank you for your time today. Enjoy your tip _ . 

 

“A  _ fifty dollar _ tip?!” Soonyoung asks incredulously when Wonwoo recounts the experience to him later. “Who has that kind of money just to hand out?”

 

“Apparently  _ Min _ does,” Wonwoo says, but the name feels strange on his tongue. Doesn’t feel right.

 

“Okay, there is definitely something weird going on here if you didn’t see their face or hear their voice. I don’t think this person is named Min. You might want to be careful, if they’re being this secretive.”

 

Soonyoung, who is easily the more reckless of the two of them, is suddenly cautious and it’s a little alarming to Wonwoo. Maybe Wonwoo should be more suspicious too, but he’s in too deep already. He’s itching to find out who this person really is.

 

“Who cares,” Wonwoo shrugs. “I’ve made fifty bucks already, and I haven’t used the website for more than a week.”

 

“Yeah okay, what the  _ fuck _ ?!” Soonyoung says, returning to his usual self. “I can’t believe you got paid for sitting there and doing nothing?  _ I _ could do that! It doesn’t matter how tall you are when you’re using a shitty webcam!”

 

They laugh about Soonyoung’s indignation before Soonyoung has to leave for a late night lacrosse practice at the rec center. Wonwoo doesn’t tell Soonyoung about stripping half-naked in front of an unseen stranger. It’s shameful, sordid. He’s not afraid of Soonyoung judging him; he’s more afraid of Soonyoung worrying about him. 

  
  
  
  


Over the next few days, Wonwoo is too busy to even think about his business as a rental boyfriend. Between classes, homework, and driving to Junhui’s house to take care of Minghao, Wonwoo doesn’t think to check for any updates from the website until Friday, when his week has finally slowed down. He finds in his inbox a handful of messages and requests from interested clients, but only one truly captures his interest. It’s from Min. 

 

_ I would like to arrange a face-to-face meeting. Please meet me at the bar at 17 Carat on Saturday, 7 pm. I look forward to seeing you soon _ .

 

Soonyoung glances at the message and says, “They’re not really giving you a choice here, are they?”

 

Wonwoo shrugs. He sees the skepticism in Soonyoung’s eyes and silently hopes that he won’t advise Wonwoo against it. Even though it’s Wonwoo’s decision, his best friend’s approval still means a lot to him. But Soonyoung suddenly grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

 

“It could be fun,” Soonyoung says, and that’s really all that Wonwoo needed to hear.

 

“Do you know the venue?” Wonwoo asks. He knows that it’s near campus, but he’s never been inside.

 

“Yeah it’s a pretty nice sports bar. Usually quite crowded, so you should be safe. Tell the bartender I said hi!”

 

“Who’s the bartender?”

 

“Jeonghan. He’s a big fan of the lacrosse team. When he was still a student here, he briefly dated one of the players from a few years back, Joonmyun. He was the captain when our current captain, Chanyeol, was a freshman.”

 

“What’s his name again? Jeonghan?”

 

“Yep. Long hair, pale skin, looks like an angel but is actually the devil. Hard to miss.”

 

“I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

 

Considering how nervous Wonwoo was for the video call, he’s not as jittery or tense as he thought he’d be. In fact, Wonwoo is more excited than anything to finally meet this person. 

 

Wonwoo feels painfully out of place when he arrives at 17 Carat, a swanky wood-panelled sports bar filled with robust middle aged men watching baseball on large flat screen TVs lining the walls. This looks like the kind of place Junhui would go with his coworkers on a Friday evening, not somewhere Wonwoo would pick out for a date. 

 

At exactly 21 years old, he’s about a decade younger than the rest of the crowd. Wonwoo almost half-expects to be carded when he’s approached by a bartender who notices him sitting by himself at the end of the bar. 

 

_ Not Jeonghan _ , Wonwoo thinks, picking out the man’s features. He doesn’t fit Soonyoung’s description; this man has an olive complexion and short, coppery hair. Wonwoo’s suspicion is confirmed when somebody from the other end of the bar calls out, “Mingyu!” and the bartender turns around to call back, “Just a minute!”

 

“Can I get you something to drink?” Mingyu asks, rolling up his sleeves to reveal long stretches of tanned skin. 

 

“Not right now, thank you. Waiting for someone,” Wonwoo says, glancing at his watch. 7:01 pm, which means that Wonwoo arrived just on time. Maybe his date is aiming to arrive fashionably late. 

 

Mingyu’s nods knowingly. “Gotcha. Well, let me know if you need anything. Just holler  _ Mingyu _ and I’ll be here, at your service.”

 

“I will,” Wonwoo promises. “Thanks, Mingyu.”

 

At the sound of Wonwoo saying his name, Mingyu’s sharp features soften into a crooked grin. His face instantly transforms from icy aloofness to something much sweeter.

 

Heat starts to crawl up Wonwoo’s face when Mingyu checks on him twenty minutes later, and he’s still sitting alone. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” Mingyu asks sympathetically.

 

In truth, Wonwoo’s throat is dry and his stomach is starting to growl. “I’ll have some lemonade, please,” he finally requests, giving into his thirst.

 

“Sure thing.” 

 

A few minutes later, Mingyu brings out a tall, icy glass of lemonade with condensation dripping down the sides and a red plastic basket overflowing with chicken tenders and French fries. 

 

“On the house,” Mingyu says conspiratorily, giving Wonwoo a silly wink. 

 

“Are….are you sure? You really didn’t have to,” Wonwoo says, unable to believe that someone would do something so nice for him. He watches Mingyu with wide eyes as Mingyu’s smile grows even broader.

 

“Please, take it. I’m going on break now, we can share the food,” Mingyu insists.

 

“I don’t want to get you into trouble,” Wonwoo says, but he’s already reaching for French fries and stuffing them into his mouth with a satisfied grin. 

 

“So, are you a student?” Mingyu asks conversationally, like he’s trying to make small talk. 

 

Wonwoo nods, his cheeks stuffed with delicious fried food. It takes him a moment to swallow before answering. “I’m studying music education.”

 

“Oh, that’s awesome. What are your interests?”

 

“Um, music, video games, and movies?” Wonwoo answers, feeling a strange sense of deja vu. 

 

“No, not your hobbies,” Mingyu laughs quietly. “I mean, what are you interested in? What gets you up in the morning and makes you want to live?” 

 

Suddenly the conversation seems to take a different tilt. Mingyu watches him with sincerity in his face, like he’s genuinely curious about Wonwoo’s “interests,” his passions. Wonwoo casts around in his mind as Mingyu waits patiently for an answer.

 

“Music,” Wonwoo decides. “Not just listening to it. Composing, writing lyrics, performing.  _ Creating _ music.”

 

Mingyu nods, like he’s satisfied and impressed with Wonwoo’s response. “Anything else? Why music education? And not just performance?”

 

“I love working with kids,” Wonwoo explains. “I’ve always been told that I have a gift with children. I’ve been babysitting since I was in high school, and I still do it now.”

 

“I see. Wow, between classes and writing songs and babysitting, you must be a very busy young man.”

 

Mingyu says “young man” as if implying that he’s much older than Wonwoo. At first glance, Wonwoo would have believed it, but seeing Mingyu’s boyish smile and warm laugh has changed his mind. Now Wonwoo thinks that the bartender can’t be that much older than himself.

 

“I make it work,” Wonwoo says modestly. “I try not to waste too much time.”

 

“Speaking of which, has the person you were supposed to meet arrived yet?”

 

After talking to Mingyu, Wonwoo had all but forgotten that he was supposed to be on a date. In fact, he’s actually a little relieved that the person never showed up, because he’s enjoying his conversation with Mingyu so much. At this point, the only thing Wonwoo vaguely cares about is whether or not he’ll be compensated for his time. 

 

“I don’t think so,” Wonwoo says. “We were supposed to meet up about half an hour ago.”

 

Mingyu frowns. “What do they look like? Maybe they’re somewhere else in the bar waiting for you.”

 

Wonwoo hesitates, afraid for a moment that Mingyu might judge him. But then he decides to admit, “We’ve only talked online. They’ve seen my face, but I’m not really sure what they look like.”

 

“Maybe they chickened out, or got lost on their way here. Either way, it’s their loss. I can’t believe anyone would be so rude to stand up such a sweet, handsome guy like you.”

 

Wonwoo smiles shyly at Mingyu’s compliment, looking down at his nearly empty glass of lemonade. 

 

“I know you’re very busy, but would you mind keeping me company for the rest of my break?” Mingyu asks gently. 

 

“Not at all,” Wonwoo says. “I’d love to.”

 

Mingyu pulls up his barstool closer to Wonwoo’s and says, “There’s this guy who’s a regular, his name’s Jihoon. He’s a music producer, has his own studio. I’ll talk to him, maybe he’d let you record a song in there or something.”

 

“Really? I’d love that!”

 

They continue to talk about music and life and the kids that Wonwoo babysits until Mingyu’s break comes to an end, and he has to return to the other side of the bar. Wonwoo thanks him and promises to visit again soon, even though it’s not the kind of place he visits often. The night feels so smooth, floaty, as Wonwoo walks back to his apartment.

 

“What are you grinning about?” Soonyoung asks him as soon as he returns. 

 

Wonwoo hadn’t even noticed that he was smiling. He probably started smiling around the time when his conversation with Mingyu began, and he hasn’t stopped smiling since. Wonwoo just shrugs in answer to Soonyoung’s question. There’s nothing really specific, just a general feeling of happiness.

 

Soonyoung was in the middle of getting ready to go out when Wonwoo stepped in through the door, but now he’s just focused on drilling Wonwoo for answers. 

 

“How was your date?” Soonyoung demands, his arm halfway through a jacket sleeve. 

 

“Didn’t show up,” Wonwoo admits. “I spent the entire time talking to the bartender instead. He was really nice. And cute.”

 

“Who, Jeonghan?”   
  


“No, Mingyu.”

 

Soonyoung is uncharacteristically silent, and when Wonwoo looks up at him, he sees his roommate staring back at him in shock.

 

“What?” Wonwoo asks.

 

“If you knew a  _ single thing _ about sports, Jeon Wonwoo,” Soonyoung begins, “you’d know that Kim Mingyu is one of the most famous golf players in the country.”

 

“How do you know it’s him? The guy was just a bartender.”

 

“Because he owns 17 Carat! And a bunch of other sports bars across the nation!” Soonyoung exclaims. He laughs in disbelief. “I can’t believe you of all people, got hired to be Mingyu’s rental boyfriend.”

 

“Wait, so are you saying that Min….is Mingyu?”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Oh,” Wonwoo says, but he still can’t wrap his mind around the idea. “Min was so weird and secretive, though. Mingyu is so friendly and kind. They can’t possibly be the same person. Why would Mingyu not want me to see his face or hear his voice the first time we talked?”

 

“Maybe because he’s a celebrity and wanted to protect his identity before proceeding? I don’t know. I just know that you’re one lucky bastard, Wonwoo.”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agrees. Even though Soonyoung is probably thinking about the money and the thrill of dating a celebrity, Wonwoo stomach does a little swoop when he thinks about Mingyu’s crooked grin and the way his bangs fall softly into his eyes.

 

An email notification lights up Wonwoo’s phone. Another transfer to his PayPal account, $100 this time. Attached is a brief message from the sender.

 

_ I had a pleasure meeting you today. Thank you _ .  


	3. Chapter 3

  
  


Wonwoo is working in the library half-asleep, when he receives a phone call from Junhui. The sudden vibration of his phone startles him, and he almost knocks over his travel mug in his haste to pick up the phone.

 

“Hello?” Wonwoo whispers when he picks up the call, jogging to find a more open space to talk.

 

“Hey Wonwoo, are you busy this afternoon?” Junhui’s voice is tight, and Wonwoo immediately picks up on the panic seeping into his tone.

 

“Hi Mr. Wen! I’m free for the rest of today, is everything alright?”

 

“I’m so sorry to ask this of you but it’s just….” Junhui pauses, and Wonwoo hears muffled voices talking urgently on the other end. “Sorry about that. What was I saying? Oh, yeah. It’s Minghao. He got sick at school, and they’re not letting him stay. I’m working late tonight, and he was supposed to ride the bus home with a friend, but—”

 

“Would you like me to pick him up from school?” Wonwoo offers as soon as he figures out the situation. 

 

“Oh god, could you, please?” Junhui says, letting out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you  _ so _ much. Minghao and I owe you big time. I won’t be home until eight, so feel free to order whatever you want for dinner, and I’ll pay you back later.”

 

“Awesome, thanks! I’ll head over to Minghao’s elementary school right away.”

 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Drive safe, and please tell Minghao that Dad will be home soon.”

 

After Wonwoo signs Minghao out of the front office at school, Minghao watches Wonwoo with suspicious, bleary eyes from the back seat of his car. 

 

“Why are you picking me up instead of my dad?” Minghao asks, his voice painfully weak and raspy. 

 

Wonwoo’s heart sinks a little bit when he realizes how disappointed Minghao must be that Junhui isn’t the one taking care of him. He’s at the age where he’s old enough to recognize his father’s absence, but too young to understand why Junhui can’t be there for him all the time.

 

“Didn’t you miss me, Minghao?” Wonwoo asks lightly. “It’s been over a week since we got to play together. I asked your dad if I could  _ please please please _ play with Minghao today, and he said yes! So we’re gonna go home and order pizza together, just us dudes, no parents allowed.”

 

A tiny smile rounds out Minghao’s chubby baby cheeks, and he is uncharacteristically quiet and obedient for the rest of the car ride.

 

When they arrive at Minghao and Junhui’s house, Wonwoo carries Minghao inside, unlocking the front door with the key that Junhui had given him a long time ago. He tucks Minghao into a blanket and lets him watch television as Wonwoo warms up leftover chicken soup on the stove, as per Junhui’s instructions. Even though Minghao is old enough to feed himself, Wonwoo indulges him by spooning the warm, salty broth into his mouth.

 

“More noodles!” Minghao demands.

 

“But the point of chicken soup isn’t the noodles, it’s the soup!”

 

“ _ Noooooodles _ ,” Minghao whines, and Wonwoo decides to give in just this once. 

 

After he’s full and satisfied, Minghao dozes off in Wonwoo’s lap, curled up against his chest. Wonwoo doesn’t have the heart to move the sleepy child, so he takes his textbook out of his backpack and tries to take notes on the sofa arm without disturbing Minghao. His usually neat handwriting turns into an illegible scrawl, so Wonwoo gives up and instead rests his eyes while listening to Minghao’s soft, jagged breathing. 

 

Wonwoo doesn’t realize that resting his eyes turned into a nap until he wakes up to Minghao’s soft whimpering.

 

“What’s wrong, Minghao baobei?” he asks.

 

“Throat….” Minghao croaks painfully, and Wonwoo reaches for a glass of water to tip the cool liquid into his mouth. Leaving Minghao on the sofa, he searches through Junhui’s medicine cabinet for cough drops.

 

“Do you like cherry flavor?” Wonwoo asks Minghao when he returns with a cough drop covered in a crinkly paper wrapping. Minghao looks at it in confusion, and Wonwoo explains, “It’s a cough drop. It tastes just like candy, and it’ll make your sore throat feel so much better!”

 

“Candy!” Minghao says excitedly. He pops the cough drop into his mouth and grimaces for a second because it isn’t exactly what he expected it to be. And then Minghao gives Wonwoo a thumbs up with his dimply baby fist. 

 

“Good boy,” Wonwoo says, ruffling Minghao’s hair. 

 

To Wonwoo’s complete shock, the next thing Minghao asks is, “Can you be my mommy, Wonwoo?”

 

“What do you mean, Minghao?”

 

“You should just marry my dad and become my mommy so you can take care of me all the time.”

 

“I’m flattered,” Wonwoo says, at a loss for words. He laughs nervously and then asks, “I think I might be a little bit young for your dad, though.”

 

“He’s only….” Minghao thinks, his face scrunching up in concentration as he tries to recall his father’s age. “72 years old!”

 

“72 years old! He looks good for 72!” Wonwoo laughs. “But in that case, he’s  _ definitely _ too old for me.”

 

“Wait, no!” Minghao says. “He’s not 72, he’s 27!”

 

“Really? Only 27?” Wonwoo says incredulously, genuinely surprised that Junhui is only six years older than him. 

 

Maybe because he’s only seen Junhui tired and haggard from working full time and taking care of his son on his own, Wonwoo always assumed that Junhui was much older. It comes as a revelation that Junhui is only a few years older than Wonwoo, but so much more of an adult, with so many more responsibilities. For some reason, it also startles Wonwoo when he realizes that Junhui is a couple of years younger than Mingyu, judging by the birthdate listed on Mingyu’s Wikipedia page. 

 

Remembering how shocked he was when he figured out that Mingyu is actually 29, Wonwoo figures that he just doesn’t have any concept of age. 

  
  
  
  


Junhui returns home even later than anticipated, which happens in the restaurant business more than he’d like. He studied art in college, but had to take ownership of his parent’s restaurant when they returned to China for their health. Running a Chinese restaurant isn’t the easiest or most glamorous line of work, and it often cuts into the time he should be spending with Minghao, but it lets him support their little family. 

 

Wonwoo is almost a part of their family at this point, and it warms Junhui’s heart to come home and find Wonwoo dozing off on the couch with Minghao asleep on his chest. There are children’s books scattered on the carpet just within Wonwoo’s reach and a couple of pizza boxes stacked on the dining table. 

 

“Come on baobei, let's go to bed,” Junhui murmurs, trying to lift his son from Wonwoo's arms. 

 

But Minghao reflexively clings onto Wonwoo's neck even in sleep, stirring Wonwoo from his nap. He blinks, disoriented for a moment before he remembers where he is. 

 

Wonwoo tries to stand up and carry Minghao to his room, but Minghao starts crying hot tears into the crook of Wonwoo's neck. 

 

“Shhh, what's the matter, Minghao?” Wonwoo asks, rocking the child gently to soothe him. “Your dad is here. Want him to hold you?”

 

But Minghao is inconsolable. He holds onto Wonwoo even more tightly and sobs, “I don't want Wonwoo to go. I want him to stay here and live with us.”

 

“Don't be silly, Minghao-ah,” Junhui says, tearing Minghao out of Wonwoo's arms. 

 

Minghao reaches out for Wonwoo and lets out a quiet whimper that's somehow even more heartbreaking than his crying from before. 

 

“Wonwoo is very busy and has to go to class tomorrow, so we can't keep him for too long,” Junhui tells Minghao. 

 

“But I want Wonwoo to stay,” Minghao whines, and then he starts coughing until his cheeks and forehead are red. Wonwoo rushes to grab a glass of water to hold up to Minghao's lips for him to sip. 

 

“If your dad doesn't mind,” Wonwoo says shyly, “I wouldn't mind staying for the night. In case you might want an extra hand or something, Mr. Wen.”

 

Junhui runs his fingers through his hair with a nervous little laugh and says, “That’s really generous of you, Wonwoo. I know it’s a lot to ask of you, and I know that Minghao would really love it if you could stay over, but um, are you sure it’s okay? I don’t know if you had plans for tonight or classes tomorrow morning you have to get ready for….”

 

Wonwoo suddenly realizes that he might have overstepped a professional boundary of some kind by asking to stay for the night. “I’m completely fine with it but, um, if you’re not, I completely understand. I won’t be offended if you’re not as okay with it.”

 

“No that’s not what I mean!” Junhui says quickly. “I would really appreciate having you around, seriously. It’s just that you’ve done so much for us already, and I don’t want to have to ask too much of you.”

 

“Oh, in that case,” Wonwoo says with great relief, “Minghao, looks like I’m crashing here for tonight!”

 

“Yay!” Minghao cheers, almost wriggling out of Junhui’s arms in his excitement. “Thanks, Dad, you’re the best!”

 

“You should be thanking Wonwoo,” Junhui tells him, pinching Minghao’s chubby cheek.

 

Minghao demands to be let down so he can rush over to Wonwoo and hug him tightly around the knees. He doesn’t say anything, but Wonwoo can tell by how forcefully Minghao’s tiny frame squeezes him just how much Minghao adores him. 

 

While Junhui changes Minghao into his pajamas, Wonwoo checks his phone for the first time that evening. He finds a message from Mingyu, who has been sending him daily texts to check up on Wonwoo and to wish him good mornings and goodnights. Even though there is so much Wonwoo still doesn’t know about Mingyu (the kind of stuff that isn’t listed on his Wikipedia page), their relationship is starting to feel less transactional and more like they’re really dating. Mingyu’s consistent, endearingly formal messages make it so easy for Wonwoo to pretend like he means something more to Mingyu than just a rental boyfriend.

Excitement fizzes in Wonwoo’s chest when he opens the message.

_ Hello Wonwoo. I’ve been out of town these past few days and I just got back this evening. I know this is very late notice but would you care for a late dinner, say around 9 pm? Your choice of restaurant. _

Wonwoo looks at the time, 8:47 pm. Even if he left now, he still wouldn’t have a chance to make himself more presentable before meeting up with Mingyu. He usually doesn’t care too much about his appearance, but he doesn’t think he could impress Mingyu in his sweatpants, beat up sneakers, and unwashed hair. Besides, he has other obligations for tonight.

_ I’m sorry sir _ , Wonwoo starts typing. The rental boyfriend agency instructed him to always address his client in the most formal way possible unless told otherwise. So far, Mingyu hasn’t said anything about it.  _ Thank you so much for your offer, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it tonight. I apologize for the late reply _ . 

 

Almost immediately, a set of bouncing ellipses appears at the bottom of their chat. 

 

_ I understand. Sorry to have distracted you. Have a good night, Wonwoo _ .

 

It might be Wonwoo’s imagination, but in his terse message, Mingyu sounds disappointed, almost dejected. 

 

_ Goodnight to you too, sir _ , Wonwoo types, but his thumb hovers uncertainly over the “send” button. It feels like a strangely troubling way for their conversation to end.

 

Normally their texts are a little bit more casual and relaxed, but this exchange feels startlingly foreign in its overly polite stiffness. As he presses “send,” Wonwoo finds himself missing the sound of Mingyu’s voice and his throaty laugh, wondering if Mingyu will sense the tone of regret in his messages. Probably not, but Wonwoo doesn’t dare express any more emotion for fear of coming off as clingy or desperate. 

 

He thinks that it’s the end of their conversation until he receives a text that simply says,  _ Please, just call me Mingyu. _

 

Wonwoo’s heart is somewhat lifted, like the strange immovable barrier between them is starting to chip away. Grinning, Wonwoo types,  _ Goodnight Mingyu _ .

 

The last text Wonwoo receives that night makes his stupidly happy smile linger until the next morning.

 

_ Yay. ^___^ _

  
  
  
  


Junhui manages to take a sick day from work, so in the morning he flips pancakes in the kitchen while Minghao watches cartoons, snuggled comfortably in Wonwoo’s lap. 

 

“What shape do you want your pancakes to be this time, Minghao-ah?” Junhui calls out over the sizzle of the frying pan. 

 

“Mickey Mouse!” Minghao exclaims without hesitation.

 

“And you, Wonwoo?” 

 

“I’ll, uh, have the same,” Wonwoo responds, looking to Minghao for his approval. Minghao beams at him and gives Wonwoo a high-five. 

 

“Would you boys like some bacon and eggs too?” Junhui asks.

 

“Baaaacooooooon,” Minghao growls.

 

“And you, Wonwoo?”

 

“What Minghao said,” Wonwoo laughs. 

 

After ceaseless weeks of cereal and milk, a hardy breakfast with Junhui and Minghao is a welcome interruption in Wonwoo’s routine. 

 

“Wonwoo, can you  _ please _ live with us  _ forever _ so Dad can make bacon and pancakes  _ everyday _ ?” Minghao begs, smiling sweetly at both Wonwoo and Junhui. 

 

“That’s not a healthy way to live,” Junhui advises his son. “We can only have breakfast like this on special occasions. Besides, Wonwoo’s gone out of his way to do so much for us already, so you should be grateful that he’s here sharing a meal with us.”

 

“Fiiiiiine,” Minghao grumbles reluctantly. “Thank you, Wonwoo.”

 

“It’s really nothing,” Wonwoo says bashfully. 

 

“Both Minghao and I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” Junhui says seriously. And then his sharp eyes soften into a crinkly smile. “Do you have plans tonight, Wonwoo? I know you must be sick of us by now, but Minghao’s grandparents are coming to visit this weekend, so I’d love to take you for a drink tonight. My treat.”

 

Wonwoo normally isn’t the type to go out on the weekends. He only went to parties with his roommate for the first few weeks of school to make sure that Soonyoung made it home safely. But then Soonyoung figured out that his alcohol tolerance is nonexistent and that he didn’t necessarily need to get inebriated to be ridiculous. Since then, Wonwoo has felt comfortable letting Soonyoung wander off to frat houses on his own, knowing that he won’t get himself into  _ too _ much trouble. 

 

The only possible plans Wonwoo can think of is a potential second date with Mingyu, but Mingyu hasn’t mentioned anything about rescheduling their missed opportunity so Wonwoo just assumes that it won’t be happening any time soon. 

 

“Nope, not busy tonight,” Wonwoo decides. 

 

“Perfect,” Junhui says. “There’s this restaurant that I’ve been stopping by recently since Minghao loves the chicken tenders there. I haven’t had the chance to go out for a drink in a long time, but I’ve heard it has a great bar.”

 

“17 Carat!” Minghao pipes in cheerfully, recognizing the mention of his favorite restaurant. 

 

“That’s the name, yeah! 17 Carat,” Junhui says, and Wonwoo fights to keep a straight face. “I’ve only ever gotten takeout, but the atmosphere is so nice and everyone’s so friendly. Every time I’m waiting for my order, the bartender always comes and talks to me! And he even told me that drinks are free for people with J names!”

 

“Is the bartender’s name by any chance Jeonghan?” Wonwoo asks.

 

Junhui’s eyes light up in recognition. “Yeah, I think that’s what he said his name is! Do you know him?”

 

“I’ve heard of him.”

 

Wonwoo isn’t exactly the most experienced person when it comes to this kind of thing, but it seems that Junhui is even more blind to flirtation than he is. 

 

“What a small world, huh?” Junhui laughs. 

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agrees. “Anyways, I have to go soon since class starts in about half an hour.”

 

“Oh yeah, of course!” Junhui says quickly, stopping Wonwoo when he tries to take his empty dishes to the sink. “I’ll take care of those, don’t even worry about cleaning up after yourself. You’re our guest here.”

 

“Ah, okay. Thanks for the delicious meal, Mr. Wen,” Wonwoo says, slipping his backpack onto his shoulders.

 

“I’ll see you tonight at 17 Carat?”

 

“Sounds good,” Wonwoo grins. “See you later, Minghao! I hope you feel better soon.”

 

As he closes the front door behind him, he hears Minghao whining, “ _ I wanna cooooooome _ .”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

  
  


As a music major, there aren't many classes Wonwoo has in common with Soonyoung, an economics major. But Wonwoo's interest in potentially opening a recording studio in the future motivated him sign up for a class on entrepreneurship, which he takes with Soonyoung. 

 

“Where were you last night?” Soonyoung asks when Wonwoo slides into the seat next to him, ten minutes before the class begins. 

 

It's at that point in the semester when even the professor is showing up late to class. Still, Wonwoo keeps his voice hushed when he mutters, “Getting more action than you.”

 

Rather than discouraging Soonyoung, this just seems to incite his curiosity. “Were you out having fun with your sugar daddy?” 

 

“Shhh!” Wonwoo hisses, not that it matters since they're the only ones in the lecture hall. “Nobody said anything about him being my sugar daddy.”

 

“Yeah, but isn't that basically what it is?”

 

“No, I’m his rental boyfriend. There’s a difference.”

 

“That….somehow sounds worse. Are you sure you’re okay with this? Have you caught feelings for him or something?” Soonyoung asks gently, sounding a little bit worried now. 

 

“I’m fine with it,” Wonwoo insists, mostly because he wants to believe that their relationship means more than just an exchange of money. “But no, I wasn’t out having fun. I was babysitting last night.”

 

“Your sugar daddy has kids?!”

 

“You know what, just—pretend I didn't say anything.”

 

A smirk pulls at the corners of Soonyoung’s lips, but he keeps quiet when other students start filtering into the classroom. For the rest of the morning, Wonwoo’s body is on autopilot as he takes notes and attends his other Friday lectures. His mind’s distracted by a strange feeling he can’t place the words for. 

 

In the afternoon, Wonwoo finds himself with nothing to do, so he picks up his guitar and notebook from his apartment before heading to the music and arts center to book a practice room. It’s been awhile since he’s had a chance to work on songwriting. He strums a few chords, enjoying the feeling of the guitar strings beneath his fingertips and the loose, lazy strokes of his wrist. 

 

Wonwoo hums under his breath as he plays the song that he’s currently working on, which is no more than an eight bar at this point. He’s strangely focused, determined to flesh the chords into an actual song. Having little experience in love, Wonwoo is usually at a loss for what to write as lyrics. But today, inspiration culls the melodies and words out of Wonwoo’s confused heart. 

 

“Far away, so far away,” Wonwoo sings in a quiet voice, feeling a bittersweet longing when he jots the words down. 

 

_ Do you still think of me as the person before? _

_ In your small eyes, I’m probably still a kid _

_ This isn’t the first time so what can I do? _

_ I can’t get over how you laugh in front of me _

_ I just can’t stay still _

 

The line “ _ You’re my twenties” _ flows from Wonwoo’s fountain pen onto the crumpled page, and then he closes his notebook and stows it away into his backpack. The practice room is dim now, the sky an inky blue outside the window. He’s satisfied with the progress he’s made today, though his heart is still conflicted. 

 

Articulating his feelings into lyrics cleared up some of his muddled thoughts, but he still feels a strange emptiness inside his chest cavity. And it still doesn’t ease the unfamiliar, panging sadness he feels when a certain smile edges in uninvited into his thoughts. 

 

Soonyoung has already left for the night by the time Wonwoo returns to their apartment. Judging by the hazy, organic stench still hanging in the air, there’s a strong chance Soonyoung might have pregamed before leaving.

 

_ Please let me know when you make it home _ , Wonwoo texts to Soonyoung.  _ Please don’t die _ . 

 

He receives an almost immediate reply of gibberish in response.

 

_ jflafjsfalkefjkjjslaf <3333 _

 

Glancing at the other conversations in his messaging app, Wonwoo suddenly realizes a possible reason for his wistful mood. He hasn’t heard from Mingyu at all today. Recognizing Mingyu’s absence as the cause of his unsettled heart replaces the emptiness with an excruciatingly sweet kind of ache, like a bruise. 

 

Feelings that are terrible, awful, and must be stopped immediately. Wonwoo knows that he has no real chance with Mingyu, the way that a blade of grass has no chance of becoming a sunflower. But he can’t stop himself from holding onto the remote hope that Mingyu might possibly feel the same way. 

 

“I’m hopeless,” Wonwoo groans. He rarely consumes alcohol, but he decides that he really could use a drink tonight.

  
  
  
  


Mingyu always likes to keep to himself for a day or two after traveling, especially when he’s recovering from jetlag like he is now. He remembers specifically telling Jeonghan not to bother him for the rest of the weekend, but he frowns when his phone buzzes from his bedstand. 

 

_ Hey! _ the message from Jeonghan reads.  _ Guess who’s at 17 Carat right now? _

 

Even though he isn’t exactly in the mood to play guessing games, Mingyu humors Jeonghan. 

 

_ Who is it? _

 

Mingyu is pretty sure that Jeonghan is on bartender duty and shouldn’t be on his phone right now, but a set of fading ellipses appears instantly at the corner of the screen.

 

_ That cute Chinese guy I told you about :) Junhui-ah~ <333 _

 

_ Ok _ , Mingyu types back humorlessly. Either Jeonghan actually did forget that Mingyu just came back from a fourteen hour flight and feels more dead than alive, or there’s something going on that Jeonghan is withholding. 

 

_ And guess who Junhui’s with~ _

 

Mingyu’s gut twists involuntarily with dread. Even though he has a feeling he knows what Jeonghan’s response will be, Mingyu types with trembling fingers,  _ Who? _

 

_ Wonwoo :)  _

 

Of course, it’s perfectly reasonable for Wonwoo to take on more than one client at a time. Mingyu knows for a fact that the rental boyfriend agency encourages them to. It’s more profitable that way, and it prevents the rental boyfriends from becoming too emotionally attached. 

 

It was silly for Mingyu to assume that Wonwoo would be exclusively his. Mingyu had been so charmed by the boy that he let his guard down. He forgot—or maybe ignored—the fact that at the end of the day, this is just a job for Wonwoo. Mingyu was just too caught up in this little imagined romance of his. 

 

Against his better judgment, Mingyu decides to ignore the signs of exhaustion keeping him in bed. He's not the kind of person who can sit back and do nothing, even though he sometimes wishes that he could be. 

 

_ Stay there _ , he types to Jeonghan.  _ I’ll be over soon _ . 

  
  
  
  


After sipping slowly at a glass bottle of beer over the course of an hour, Wonwoo’s cheeks are warm and he feels pleasantly buzzed before half the bottle is even gone. He listens to Junhui and Jeonghan’s animated conversation, watching with faint amusement as Jeonghan’s lips draw closer and closer to the shell of Junhui’s ear. 

 

He sees the faint surprise in Junhui’s eyes when Jeonghan reaches across the counter to rub his thumb across Junhui’s knuckles. If Junhui was more sober, he might have reacted with more reticence, but he just grins at Jeonghan’s blatant flirtation, enjoying the attention and the not-so-subtle skinship.

 

Suddenly, Jeonghan’s eyes light up and his smile grows even wider. 

 

“There you are!” Jeonghan exclaims, greeting someone over Junhui’s shoulder.

 

Junhui and Wonwoo turn to look at the same time, and Wonwoo’s stomach swoops when he sees Mingyu’s tall, striking figure. Mingyu looks just like a model with his ripped jeans, leather jacket, and windswept copper hair. His gaze is sharp and intense, but he doesn’t spare a glance at Wonwoo as he approaches the bar.  

 

His chest expanding with hope, Wonwoo opens his mouth to greet Mingyu, but Mingyu takes a seat a few bar stools away from Junhui before Wonwoo gets a chance to say anything. It’s like Mingyu didn’t even notice he was there. Wonwoo knows that he should speak up, but he can’t help but lose courage after being overlooked by the one person he’s been longing to see. He’s always been like this, unable to properly express his emotions when it matters the most. The words die in his throat, and Wonwoo closes his mouth, feeling like his chest has been deflated.  

 

“What can I get for you today, Mingyu?” Jeonghan asks with his dangerously charming smile that nobody is immune to—nobody, that is, except for Mingyu. 

 

“The usual,” Mingyu grunts, feeling too agitated to make small talk now that he’s seen with his own eyes that Wonwoo really is here with another client. 

 

Mingyu knows that he shouldn’t be here. Wonwoo is clearly just trying to do his job, so he stays at a distance, hoping that he can keep an eye on Wonwoo without being a distraction. He’s not sure why he feels the need to monitor Wonwoo and his date, but Mingyu knows deep down in his gut that he doesn’t like the idea of another man coming onto Wonwoo. 

 

Suddenly, this man,  _ Junhui _ , is leaping out of his seat to approach Mingyu. Wonwoo watches, startled by Junhui’s lack of inhibition. 

 

“I couldn’t help overhearing, but are you  _ Kim Mingyu _ ?” Junhui asks breathlessly, sidling into the seat next to Mingyu’s. 

 

“Yes, that’s me,” Mingyu says, taken aback by Junhui’s enthusiasm and the way that he just abandoned Wonwoo. Mingyu can’t help but think that if  _ he _ was on a date with Wonwoo, he wouldn’t treat him so carelessly. He’d devote all of his attention to him.

 

Laughing in disbelief, Junhui says, “My son and I are huge fans of you, Mr. Kim. We’ve been following your career since your rookie tournament. I’m Junhui, by the way.”

 

“Wow, um, thank you, Junhui,” Mingyu says, hesitantly accepting the man’s excited handshake. His  _ son? _ “I’m flattered. Thank you for your support. Please, just call me Mingyu.”

 

“I know you’re just out here for a drink, but would you mind taking a photo with me so I can show my son who Dad bumped into?” Junhui asks with nervous excitement.

 

“Sure, of course. Jeonghan, can you take the photo for us?”

 

Wonwoo watches out of the corner of his eye as Mingyu and Junhui pose for a photo, looking like a couple of grown men enjoying a drink together at a sports bar. They look so natural together that Wonwoo is once again painfully aware of how out of place he is. He sips quietly at his beer, his heart aching at the sound of Mingyu’s laugh when he and Junhui look at how the photo turned out.

 

“Thank you so much,” Junhui gushes. “Minghao is going to be so thrilled when he sees that I got to meet his hero. If he even recognizes my face, that is! You turned out fine, but my face is a little….”

 

“What are you talking about? You look very handsome,” Mingyu says, and Wonwoo feels an inexplicable tug of jealousy in his gut. “It was my pleasure. Minghao is your son?”

 

“That’s right,” Junhui says, grinning at the photo of them together. 

 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Mingyu begins carefully, “is Minghao’s mother still in the picture?”

 

Wonwoo stiffens slightly at the mention of Minghao’s biological mother. He’s always been curious about how Junhui ended up raising Minghao on his own, but he assumed that it was none of his business as a babysitter. To Wonwoo’s surprise, Junhui answers Mingyu without any hesitation.

 

“Nope, she was never in the picture. We were both pretty young when she got pregnant, still in college. She was 22, and I was a year younger. It was a rocky relationship, but my son was the best thing that could have come out of it. We weren’t even together anymore by the time Minghao was born. His mother was planning to give him up for adoption, so I took guardianship of him instead.”

 

Despite his initial feelings of animosity towards Junhui, Mingyu is starting to truly respect him. He can see why Wonwoo would choose to spend time with him over Mingyu. 

 

“Wait, she wanted to give him up?” Mingyu asks incredulously. They’ve known each other only briefly, but Mingyu can tell already that Junhui’s son means the world to him. “Forgive me for saying this, but that seems cold of her.”

 

“I don’t hold any bad feelings towards her for it. She was planning to go to medical school, and she just wasn’t ready to take care of a child at that point,” Junhui explains.

 

“But you must have been in a similar situation, since you were also in college.” 

 

Junhui shrugs. “I ended up dropping out and working in my parents’ restaurant. I realized that there were more important things in life than chasing a diploma, such as being able to support my son. His future is what matters the most to me now.”

 

“That’s….wow,” Mingyu says, genuinely speechless. “Your devotion to your son is very admirable.”

 

“Thank you,” Junhui says with a smile. “I try.”

 

Their conversation drifts towards lighter topics, and then Junhui and Mingyu are laughing as they order more drinks, matching each other shot for shot as Wonwoo watches from a distance.

 

In Wonwoo’s mind, Mingyu and Junhui fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces. He can see evidence of their natural chemistry by the way that they’re chatting away like old friends, patting each other fondly on the shoulder. It makes perfect sense to Wonwoo, that Mingyu would ultimately choose someone older and more experienced than him, someone with more relatable experiences and wisdom to offer. 

 

Again, Wonwoo reminds himself harshly that he’s only a rental boyfriend, just a temporary measure that doesn’t even come close to the real thing. Mingyu may have found companionship in Wonwoo, but he probably sees a real connection in Junhui. It was foolish of Wonwoo to hope that anything more could come out of their arrangement. He’s so clueless about how relationships are supposed to work that he’s overlooked the most obvious, defining part of his role as a rental boyfriend. 

 

_ How could I be so stupid? _ Wonwoo asks himself as he tilts the last drop of his beer into his throat. He stares at the surface of the counter as if he will find answers etched there in the wood grain.

 

Wonwoo doesn’t realize that his eyes are burning with tears until he finds Jeonghan’s sweet, dark eyes staring kindly at him.

 

“Are you okay, honey? You look upset,” Jeonghan says, his beautiful ivory forehead knit in concern. 

 

“I’ll have another beer please,” Wonwoo says, his throat feeling raw and broken.

 

“Are you sure? You look pretty flushed,” Jeonghan says with concern.

 

“Please,” Wonwoo begs hoarsely. His face is burning, but mostly from shame. He doesn’t belong by Mingyu’s side, not when somebody else fits there so perfectly. He should have recognized his place earlier. 

 

Jeonghan brings him another cold glass bottle dripping with condensation. Wonwoo chugs the bottle all at once, and then gasps for breath, feeling dizzy. Even though Wonwoo normally isn’t the type to seek attention, seeing Mingyu deep in conversation with Junhui without giving Wonwoo any regard is unbearable for him now. He doesn’t even feel like a third wheel, he feels like a kid listening in on adults talking about experiences that he can’t even begin to relate to. 

 

Wonwoo can’t take it anymore. He stands up, his head swimming with vertigo. Before he realizes it, he’s laying on the floor, a sharp pain shooting along his temple. But the floor feels so nice and cool against his skin, and their voices and laughter fade from his consciousness, finally letting Wonwoo find peace. 

  
Just before the world fades to black, he hears a vague, muffled shout of “ _ Wonwoo!” _


	5. Chapter 5

 

_ Sticky. Dizzy. Pain _ . Wonwoo's bleary mind registers each sensation piece by piece as an unfamiliar room constitutes itself in his vision.  _ Warm _ . Despite the painful throbbing in his head, Wonwoo is comfortable and cozy, tucked in soft blankets and snuggled up against something impossibly warm.

 

He slowly realizes that his cheek is pressed against a man’s bare chest, their bodies entwined together. Wonwoo’s head reels when he tries to recall who is curled up against, but absolutely nothing comes to mind. His eyes follow the contoured planes of the man’s chest up to his broad shoulders, long neck, and sloping jawline. And then he recognizes those soft, shell pink lips parted gently in sleep that couldn’t possibly belong to  _ anybody _ else. 

 

It feels so surreal that Wonwoo would suspect that he’s still dreaming, if it wasn’t for his pounding migraine. Wonwoo closes his eyes again, wanting to hold onto this impossibly serene memory of waking up next to Mingyu forever. He’s torn between wanting to watch Mingyu sleep and wanting to touch his golden skin, just to make sure that he’s really there. Wonwoo almost believes that his hand would pass right through Mingyu’s body, like he’s only a mirage in a bittersweet dream.

 

Wonwoo slides his hand lightly over Mingyu’s broad, muscular chest, his fingertips barely grazing his smooth, supple skin. Mingyu shivers in his sleep, and Wonwoo feels desire rise in him. He rests his hand gently on Mingyu’s firm shoulder and then turns his head slightly so that his nose and lips are pressed against Mingyu’s chest. Wonwoo inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of Mingyu’s skin. At Wonwoo’s exhale, a gentle susurration soft as a whisper, Mingyu’s eyelids flutter open and a sleepy grin curls the corners of his lips. 

 

“Good morning,” Mingyu mumbles. 

 

His smile shrinks around the edges when he notices a strange, unreadable look in Wonwoo’s eyes, somewhere between confusion and apprehension. Dread pools in Mingyu’s belly as he realizes that Wonwoo probably has no recollection of anything that happened the previous night. 

 

“I know this looks bad,” Mingyu begins nervously, “but I promise you that I didn’t do anything to take advantage of you last night. Please trust me.”

 

“W-what happened last night?” Wonwoo asks, his throat feeling croaky and dry. Fragmented memories are starting to float to the surface of his mind, but he still has trouble making sense of it all.

 

“Um, I think you had a little too much to drink.” An understatement. “Junhui had to go home to take care of his son, and I didn’t know where you lived or who would be able to take care of you, so I brought you here, to my apartment. I hope you don’t mind….”

 

“Oh. Thank you,” Wonwoo says. It still doesn’t explain why he woke up in Mingyu’s arms, but Wonwoo’s too afraid to ask, like it might disturb the placid illusion of that perfect moment. 

 

Mingyu is vaguely relieved when Wonwoo doesn’t pry for details about how they ended up in bed together. He doesn’t want to embarrass him by explaining exactly what had transpired the night before—Mingyu carrying Wonwoo to his bed, Wonwoo stirring from his unconscious stupor just to start sobbing uncontrollably, which resulted in Mingyu holding him in his arms until he dozed off again. Staying by Wonwoo’s side the entire night to make sure Wonwoo wouldn’t have to cry alone.

 

It doesn’t seem that Wonwoo remembers any of this, but his eyes are still red and puffy from hours of shedding inconsolable tears. With mussed hair sticking out in different directions and Mingyu’s too-large undershirt hanging off his thin shoulders, Wonwoo looks both waifish and seductive in equal parts. Mingyu feels the urge to wrap his arms around Wonwoo to squeeze the sadness out of him, but he holds himself back for fear of crossing any more boundaries. 

 

According to the agency’s strict guidelines, clients aren’t allowed to do anything more physical than holding hands with their rental boyfriends. Kissing is frowned upon, and sleeping together is out of the question. Mingyu manages to convince himself that these were extenuating circumstances.

 

“Would you like some Advil?” Mingyu offers, because being in bed with Wonwoo is getting more dangerous by the second. 

 

“Yes please,” Wonwoo says. The rough scrape to his husky voice is even more irresistible first thing in the morning, and Mingyu is glad for an excuse to leave the room. 

 

Mingyu lends Wonwoo a sweater a size too large with too-long sleeves that cover his hands and a neckline that ends up hanging loosely from his collarbones. 

 

“Is this too big, do you think?” Wonwoo asks, picking at the expensive fabric. Cashmere, probably, costing more than half of Wonwoo’s entire wardrobe. 

 

“It looks perfect,” Mingyu says with complete honesty. “Would you like breakfast?”

 

Wonwoo’s plush lips pull back in a smile that reveals a perfect row of big white teeth. One of the things Mingyu loved instantly about Wonwoo was his big, pure grin and the way that Wonwoo smiles and laughs with all his heart.  

 

“Yes, please,” Wonwoo murmurs. A low growl rumbles in his stomach, and he lowers his eyes shyly in embarrassment. 

 

“Just give me a moment,” Mingyu says, already reaching for his apron hanging on a hook in the kitchen. 

 

Wonwoo sits at the kitchen table, watching Mingyu as he prepares their food with the ease and confidence of an expert. Soon, Wonwoo’s hunger is satisfied, but uncertainty crawls back into his stomach. He isn’t sure of how to act since this is far beyond rental boyfriend protocol, and he doesn’t have enough relationship experience to know what is typically appropriate in this situation. It doesn’t even occur to him that their situation is anything but typical. 

 

Luckily, Wonwoo is saved from improvising when Mingyu asks, “Since we never did get to go on that second date, would you like to go shopping today? If you’re not busy, that is.”

 

The offer takes Wonwoo by surprise. He was certain that after meeting Junhui, Mingyu would never be interested in Wonwoo again. An effervescent feeling of hope bubbles inside Wonwoo’s chest, but he quickly represses it by reminding himself that he shouldn’t expect too much from him.

 

“Sure,” Wonwoo agrees nonetheless. “What are we shopping for?”

 

Mingyu just shrugs in response. “Whatever,” he says, as if he has no particular plans for the day. 

 

It’s soon clear to Wonwoo that Mingyu most likely  _ does _ have plans, because Mingyu parks on the street across from a sleek, modern looking store that he makes a beeline for as soon as they climb out of his car. It’s a chic men’s clothier simply called  _ joshua _ , and as they approach the store, Wonwoo sees through the window that the space is lined with white, minimalistic displays of men’s business attire and formal wear. 

 

A bell hanging above the door tinkles when Mingyu enters with Wonwoo just behind him. A man with pretty doe eyes and styled hair greets them automatically without looking up from the fabric he’s stitching. 

 

“Hello, welcome to  _ joshua _ , please take a look around and let me know if you need anything,” he says with little inflection in his voice. 

 

Wonwoo assumes that he’s just a jaded retail worker, tired from reciting the same canned greeting every time someone walks through the door. Wonwoo is slightly startled when Mingyu says, “Hello, Jisoo. Long time no see.”

 

The man’s head snaps up at the sound of Mingyu’s voice, his manicured eyebrows arching in surprise. 

 

“ _ Mingyu! _ You should have told me you were coming, I was totally not expecting to see you at all,” Jisoo says emphatically, the previously dull timbre of his voice now imbued with color. To Wonwoo’s ears, it almost sounds like there’s accusation in his tone. “What can I do for you today, darling? New suit? Tux?”

 

“New tux, but not for me,” Mingyu answers. He steps aside, gesturing to Wonwoo with his hand. “Jisoo, this is Wonwoo. Please take care of him well.”

 

Wonwoo nods in greeting, and for the briefest moment, a fleeting look of disgust crosses Jisoo’s face. But his gentle, exquisite features quickly return to normal, and Wonwoo wonders if he just imagined the flicker in Jisoo’s expression. 

 

“So would you like this tux to be made to measure, or completely bespoke?” Jisoo asks, addressing Mingyu. 

 

“We won’t have time to return for fittings, and I’d like it as soon as possible, so made to measure,” Mingyu says. “Also, please make sure that it’s midnight blue mohair with peak lapels so he won’t be mistaken for a waiter, and make sure that it has double vents, a fitted silhouette, a single breasted closure, and a flat front. No pleats.”

 

Jisoo clucks his tongue softly and says, “You’re just as picky as I remembered. Come with me, darling, let me take your measurements.”

 

He gestures for Wonwoo to follow him to a room at the back of the store with a trifold mirror and a vast array of sewing supplies. Mingyu follows along, glancing leisurely at the suits and accessories on display.

 

At Jisoo’s instruction, Wonwoo nervously strips down to his boxers, which sit loose on his hips because they actually belong to Mingyu. Jisoo makes no comment, but Wonwoo can feel his judgment from the way his eyes rake over his body. 

 

Jisoo’s hands are quick, gentle as he measures everything from the width of Wonwoo’s shoulders to the circumference of his waist and length of his legs. But Wonwoo soon begins to notice when Jisoo’s hands linger against his bare skin just a little too long, even going as far as to skim his fingertips along Wonwoo’s faintly muscled abdomen. 

 

When he looks in the mirror, he catches Mingyu’s sharp gaze, his eyes narrowed as he watches Jisoo’s ministrations. And then Mingyu meets Wonwoo’s eyes, and his expression softens into a smile. 

 

“All done,” Jisoo announces. “You can put your clothes back on, darling. I should have your tux ready in a week.”

 

Mingyu frowns at Jisoo’s estimate. “That’s too late. Three days,” he negotiates. 

 

“Perfection takes time, Mingyu darling,” Jisoo explains with feigned patience. It just comes off as condescending to Wonwoo. “Three to five business days.”

 

_ Five days is cutting it close _ , Mingyu thinks, but he finally agrees. Once Wonwoo is fully clothed again, Mingyu guides Wonwoo out of the workshop room with a protective hand on the small of his back.  

 

“Thank you for your business today, Mingyu,” Jisoo tells them when they’re about to leave the store. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Wonwoo.”

 

“Same to you,” Wonwoo says with a hesitant bow in Jisoo’s direction before Mingyu drags him out of the store.

 

“God, I can only take that man in small doses,” Mingyu huffs when they’re back outside in the crisp autumn chill. His hand is still on the small of Wonwoo’s back, but he slides it to his hip to hold Wonwoo close when he realizes that he’s shivering. 

 

“Have you known Jisoo for a long time?” Wonwoo asks, curious about what kind of history they must have for Mingyu to be so thoroughly annoyed by him.

 

“Yes, my whole life pretty much,” Mingyu answers tersely. 

 

“Are you….friends?”  

 

“He’s my ex-husband,” Mingyu admits with a tired sigh. “Our marriage lasted less than a year, we barely made the six month benchmark. We went from childhood friends to lovers to whatever we are now. Worst failure of my life, and at something that mattered so much too. I still can’t believe I went through an entire wedding just to realize a few months later that it just wouldn’t work out between us.”

 

The news is so shocking that Wonwoo is too numb to fully wrap his mind around the idea, let alone think of something both sympathetic and intelligent to say. Instead, Wonwoo just jokes, “You know, I can think of at least one other Kim whose marriage was shorter and more disastrous than yours.”

 

“Who?” Mingyu asks tiredly.

 

“Kim Kardashian.”

 

Mingyu facepalms so hard at this that Wonwoo hears the slap of his palm against his skin, but Mingyu’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. 

 

“Sorry,” Wonwoo apologizes sheepishly. “That was a bad joke. I couldn’t help myself.”

 

“It was a good joke,” Mingyu chuckles. “I’m just mad that I totally didn’t see it coming.”

 

Wonwoo beams at him, and then sneezes. It’s getting cold outside, and the sweater he’s wearing is quite a bit thinner than Mingyu’s leather motorcycle jacket. As if reading his thoughts, Mingyu takes off his jacket to drape it around Wonwoo’s shoulders. And then he grabs Wonwoo’s hand, dragging him into the nearest store for warmth.

 

Even when they’re inside, Mingyu doesn’t let go of Wonwoo’s hand for some reason. Wonwoo smiles to himself, clutching the jacket around his shoulders and enjoying the feeling of Mingyu’s strong, slightly callused fingers slipping into the crevices between his own. 

 

Mingyu doesn’t say anything about it, and Wonwoo doesn’t either, as they browse the random store they’ve stumbled into. It’s a cozy little shop with dozens of handmade soaps with pretentious sounding ingredients like organic goat milk, French lavender, and blooming jasmine. 

 

One product in particular catches the attention of both men at the same time. There’s a large, round slab of creamy light beige soap on display, that they both end up staring at for several seconds before Wonwoo says, “Doesn’t that look like—”

 

“Cheese, yeah,” Mingyu says immediately. 

 

They stare at it for a few more seconds, and Wonwoo says, “I know that it’s probably not cheese, but I kind of want to….”

 

“Bite into it?”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo admits, his eyes crinkling in an embarrassed smile. “It’s probably not cheese though.”

 

“But it could be,” Mingyu reminds him playfully.

 

“Maybe,” Wonwoo laughs.

 

“There’s only one way to find out.”

 

Wonwoo has never been chased out of a store before, nor has he taken a bite out of a solid slab of soap, but he figures that there’s a first time for everything. There’s an indescribably awful taste on his tongue as he runs down the street hand-in-hand with Mingyu, but Wonwoo couldn’t feel happier as they laugh, open-mouthed at each other, occasionally glancing back to make sure that the poor soap shop owner has given up on chasing them.

 

When they’re a couple of blocks away, they stop to catch their breath. Their expressions alternate between joyful laughter and disgust because of the bitter taste of soap still lingering in their mouths. 

 

Mingyu points out a cafe selling bubble tea at the end of the block. It’s a little bit cold for bubble tea this time of year, but Wonwoo agrees to go, open to anything that will wash the terrible taste out of their mouths. 

 

Again, their entrance is greeted by the monotone drone of a less than enthusiastic employee.

 

“Hello, welcome to Jam Jam Bubble—oh, it’s you!” Soonyoung exclaims in surprise when he recognizes Wonwoo. “And  _ you _ must be Mingyu! Hey Mingyu, I’m Wonwoo’s roommate Soonyoung. Wonwoo’s told me  _ all _ about you!”

 

Mingyu looks at Wonwoo with surprise. “You have?”

 

“He’s exaggerating,” Wonwoo says quickly, immediately regretting his agreement to grab bubble tea. He’d forgotten that Soonyoung works here on the weekend when he doesn’t have lacrosse practice, along with—

 

“Hi, I’m Seokmin!” a cheerful looking boy with mousy colored hair standing next to Soonyoung pipes in. 

 

“Nobody asked you,” Soonyoung says, but Seokmin’s broad smile doesn’t shrink a bit. Along with being coworkers, Seokmin and Soonyoung are teammates on the lacrosse team, and they’ve gotten along like this since the first day of practice freshman year. 

 

“So what would you guys like today?” Seokmin asks, glancing between Wonwoo and Mingyu. 

 

“Just a second,” Wonwoo murmurs as he carefully reads the menu. After a few minutes of deliberation, Wonwoo finally decides, “A medium mango bubble tea, please.”

 

“I’ll have the same thing,” Mingyu says. He swipes his card and then joins Wonwoo at a cafe table.

 

Mingyu begins to open his mouth to make small talk with Wonwoo, but he stops when they hear hushed voices from behind the counter. 

 

“ _ Soonyoung, we’re out of mangoes _ ,” Seokmin whispers, completely oblivious to the fact that Wonwoo and Mingyu can hear them quite clearly.

 

Soonyoung must be just as oblivious because he hisses back, “ _ But they ordered mango drinks! _ ”

 

“ _ But we don’t have any mangoes! _ ”

 

“ _ Just figure something out! _ ”

 

A few minutes later, Soonyoung brings Wonwoo and Mingyu their “mango” bubble teas with a suspiciously bright grin, acting like the exchange about the mangoes never happened. Wonwoo eyes his drink warily before taking a sip. Definitely not mango. He looks up at Mingyu sitting across the table from him, fighting (and failing) to keep a straight face as he sips at his own drink. Their eyes meet, and Mingyu shrugs, grinning at Wonwoo with his straw between his teeth.

  
Wonwoo wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, and he still isn’t exactly sure what it is, but it isn’t bad. It’s nice, even. 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Not long after Mingyu drops Wonwoo off at his apartment late in the afternoon, Wonwoo receives an email notification, like clockwork. Another money transfer to his PayPal account, $500 this time. For a few moments, Wonwoo just stares at the staggering sum in disbelief. He was enjoying Mingyu’s company too much to even think about the details of their arrangement. To Wonwoo, it just felt like a stupid date. 

 

There’s no message attached to the payment this time, causing Wonwoo’s paranoia to spike. What if Mingyu didn’t enjoy their time together as much as Wonwoo did? What if Mingyu has regrets about spending so much time and money on Wonwoo? What if Wonwoo is the only one getting anything out of their arrangement?

 

An acrid taste rises in Wonwoo’s throat when he wonders if Mingyu is only paying for his company out of a sense of pity, or charity. Wonwoo still can’t fathom why Mingyu would want to invest so much time and money on him when he could be with anybody else he wanted. With nothing to offer Mingyu except love, the only thing Wonwoo can do is to enjoy their arrangement while it lasts. 

 

October turns into November, and for the first time since Wonwoo can remember, he’s no longer anxious about making ends meet this month. Now that he has a considerable amount of extra spending money, Wonwoo decides to splurge on a nice birthday present for Minghao. Junhui has invited Wonwoo to Minghao’s birthday party for the past couple of years, and this year is no different. 

 

Wonwoo wanders the colorful aisles of a nearby toy store, looking for something that Minghao might like. He finds a beautifully carved wooden slingshot that he knows would delight the boy, but he suspects that Junhui wouldn’t be as thrilled. He settles instead on a deluxe set of Nerf guns that includes several different types of blasters and ammunition. Since Minghao is an only child, he often plays with neighborhood kids, so Wonwoo imagines that Minghao would love a gift he can share with his friends.

 

That Friday evening, Wonwoo has just finished wrapping up his present and is about to head to Junhui’s house when he hears a quiet knock on the door. Wonwoo’s heart does a little somersault in happiness at the unexpected sight of Mingyu waiting outside.

 

“Hey,” Mingyu says with a wide grin that reveals his sharp canines. 

 

He’s standing on Wonwoo’s doormat with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a garment bag slung over his shoulder, looking just like a boyfriend picking up his date. Wonwoo wishes he could take a photo of him to capture this moment forever.

 

“Hi,” Wonwoo says uncertainly, torn between confusion and overjoy. 

 

Mingyu frowns when he notices that Wonwoo’s coat is on and his shoes are laced. “Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time? Were you just about to go somewhere?” he asks. 

 

“I’m going to Junhui’s house, but there’s no rush,” Wonwoo says. “Would you like to come inside?”

 

“No, I don’t want to interrupt your plans,” Mingyu says, a strange sense of dread twisting in his gut at the mention of Junhui. “I just came here to drop something off.”

 

He hands Wonwoo the garment bag containing his tuxedo and turns around to leave. 

 

“Wait!” Wonwoo calls after him, and Mingyu glances back over his shoulder. “What is this for?” Wonwoo asks, holding up the garment bag. 

 

“Oh, did I not tell you? I must have forgotten to mention it. There’s a PGA banquet tomorrow night, black tie preferred. A golf thing. Do you think you’ll be able to make it?”

 

“Um, I think so,” Wonwoo says. “I don’t think I have any plans tomorrow night.”

 

“Great!” Mingyu beams. “I’ll pick you up at 5:30 tomorrow. Dinner starts at 7.”

 

“Okay,” Wonwoo agrees, but he’s slightly puzzled. There seems to be something off about Mingyu today.

 

“Thank you!” Wonwoo calls out to Mingyu’s retreating figure.

 

Mingyu tosses another smile over his shoulder before slipping into his car. His headlights flicker on, illuminating Wonwoo’s silhouette as he lingers in the doorway. Mingyu backs out of his parking space and gives Wonwoo a little wave goodbye. Wonwoo waves back and then disappears behind his door as Mingyu accelerates out of the parking lot. 

 

After Mingyu has left, Wonwoo grabs Minghao’s present, a large box wrapped in shimmery silver gift wrap, before climbing into his own car. 

 

Minghao is ecstatic when he sees Wonwoo arrive with an enormous present in his arms. 

 

“This is gonna be the best present ever!” Minghao crows as he carries the box to the living room where Hansol, Seungkwan, and Chan are playing with his Legos. 

 

“I don’t know,” Hansol says doubtfully. “One time I got a box that big for Christmas, but the only thing inside was a pair of socks. And a lot of air.”

 

Minghao shakes the box vigorously, listening to the contents rattling inside. “Doesn’t sound like socks!” he announces happily. 

 

“Ah, Minghao, that might not be a good idea,” Junhui warns him, peeking into the living room. “You don’t know what’s inside, you might break something by accident.”

 

“Then can I open it?” Minghao asks.

 

“After pizza and cake,” Junhui tells him. And then he turns to address Wonwoo. “Hey! Glad you could make it, Wonwoo.”

 

“Glad to be here! Thanks for the invitation, Mr. Wen.”

 

“Of course. Minghao’s birthday party just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

 

“Thanks,” Wonwoo says, smiling shyly. “Do you need help in the kitchen?”

 

“I’ve got help, actually, and we’re just about done with the cake. I appreciate the offer though.”

 

Wonwoo isn’t sure who “help” is referring to, but it doesn’t take him long to figure it out. 

 

“I thought I heard your voice, Wonwoo!” Jeonghan says, emerging from the kitchen with an apron tied around his waist and his long red hair cinched in three ponytails: one behind each ear and one on top of his head. 

 

“Hi, Jeonghan. I, um, like your hair,” Wonwoo says.

 

“Isn’t it great? Minghao styled it for me. He’s been doing my hair everyday, haven’t you, kiddo?”

 

“Yep!” Minghao proudly pipes in. Jeonghan kneels down to ruffle Minghao’s hair fondly. 

 

Wonwoo had been wondering why Junhui hadn't called him all week for his babysitting services. It appears that in the time since Junhui took Wonwoo to 17 Carat, Jeonghan has been hitting it off with both Junhui and Minghao. 

 

“Hey, Jeonghan?” Junhui calls out from the kitchen. “The cake’s done cooling now. Want to come decorate it?”

 

“Sure thing,” Jeonghan replies. “Be there in a second.”

 

“You’re going to decorate my cake?” Minghao asks with wide eyes. “Dad told me that you have fifteen years of baking experience!”

 

“Really?” Wonwoo asks incredulously. “So you have skills as both a baker and a bartender?”

 

“Well, not exactly,” Jeonghan admits sheepishly. “You see, I once decorated a cake for my mother’s birthday fifteen years ago….”

 

“Why’d you tell Junhui that then?” Wonwoo asks.

 

Jeonghan crouches down to Minghao’s level again and rests an arm around his shoulders. 

 

“Listen, Minghao-ah,” he says gently, “I told your dad I could decorate your birthday cake so that he’d invite me to your party. But let’s just keep that between you and me, okay?”

 

“But Jeonghan!” Minghao says. “I would have invited you anyways!”

 

“You’re such a sweet kid,” Jeonghan sighs, hugging Minghao around his narrow shoulders. “What did the world do to deserve you?”

 

“Birthday presents!” Minghao answers happily. After a moment of thought, he adds, “And chicken tenders.”

 

“Come to 17 Carat with your dad again soon, okay? I’ll give you as many chicken tenders as you want,” Jeonghan laughs.

 

After patting the overjoyed birthday boy on the head, Jeonghan returns to the kitchen to help Junhui with the cake. Wonwoo lays on the sofa, exhausted from a long week of classes and activities. He watches the kids playing together on the living room rug through drooping eyelids, feeling content in a nostalgic kind of way. 

 

Just as Wonwoo reaches the brink of falling asleep, he’s jerked awake by Chan tugging at his sleeve. 

 

“Wonwoo-hyung, I’m  _ thirstyyyyy _ ,” Chan whines.

 

“Would you like me to get some water?” Wonwoo asks, and Chan nods his head vigorously. 

 

Wonwoo wanders over to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for the thirsty toddler. He walks in on Junhui and Jeonghan giggling like a couple of kids, smearing vanilla icing on each other’s noses. 

 

“Can I help you with anything, Wonwoo?” Junhui asks through his laughter as he watches Jeonghan trying to lick the icing off his own nose. 

 

“Just getting some water.” Wonwoo glances down at the half-decorated cake and comments, “The cake’s looking good.”

 

Junhui attempted to stack layers of chocolate cake, but the top layer caved in. They still covered the collapsed layer with white icing, making it look like the crumbling ruins of the Roman Colosseum. 

 

“It’s getting there,” Jeonghan says. 

 

The cake doesn’t look much better twenty minutes later when Minghao and his friends and family are gathered around the dinner table. But Minghao is thrilled to see his name spelled out in shaky cursive icing and seven candles illuminating the cake. 

 

“Don’t you love your cake?” Junhui asks his son.

 

Minghao nods his head vigorously with a resounding, “Yes!”

 

“You should thank Jeonghan for making it for you! Thanks to his expertise, it looks this pretty.”

 

“ _ Thank you, Jeonghaaaan _ ,” Minghao says sweetly.

 

“It was nothing,” Jeonghan says. “I’m really not an expert. Like,  _ really _ .”

 

“I know,” Junhui smirks. He wraps an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulders and says, “But I’m glad you’re here.”

 

“Wait, so did you believe me when I told you that I had fifteen years of baking experience?” Jeonghan asks.

 

“Of course not,” Junhui scoffs. “But I knew that Minghao wanted you to come.”

 

“I want to blow out my candles now, Dad!” Minghao exclaims. 

 

Once they’ve finished with cake and presents, Wonwoo decides to head home early.

 

“Can’t you stay to play with us?” Minghao begs, clinging to Wonwoo’s leg. “Why do you have to go so soon?”

 

“I’m sure Wonwoo has lots of stuff to do,” Junhui tries to reason with his son. “It was so nice of him just to come here for your party and to give you such a nice present, too.”

 

“But I want to play with Wonwoo some more!” Minghao whines. His bottom lip juts out in one of his impossibly potent pouts, but thankfully, Jeonghan comes to the rescue. 

 

“Minghao-ah,” Jeonghan says, scooping up the boy in his arms. “Jeonghannie is staying for the whole night, can you let me play with you? Or else I’ll be stuck talking with your dad all evening about grown up stuff like  _ taxes _ .”

 

Jeonghan’s beautiful face wrinkles in disgust, but somehow he still manages to look attractive.

 

“Of course,” Minghao says solemnly, placing a reassuring hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder. “You can always play with me instead of my boring dad.”

 

“You’re the best!” Jeonghan squeals, hugging Minghao tightly. 

 

Minghao giggles and then squirms out of Jeonghan’s arms to skip over to Wonwoo.

 

“Come back soon, okay?” Minghao says, squeezing Wonwoo around the waist. 

 

“Bye, Wonwoo!” Junhui calls out. “Thanks for everything.”

  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung returns from work the next afternoon just in time to find Wonwoo struggling to figure out how to put on his tuxedo. 

 

“Wow, what’s with the fancy suit?” Soonyoung asks.

 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Wonwoo says with a helpless look in his eyes. “I’ve been trying to put this bowtie on for the past fifteen minutes.”

 

“Here, let me help,” Soonyoung offers, taking pity on Wonwoo. Within moments, his deft fingers arrange a perfect bowtie. He pats Wonwoo’s sleek lapels. “There you go, sexy. What’s the occasion?” 

 

“Some PGA banquet with Mingyu tonight. He hasn’t told me much about it, but he says there’s free food.”

 

“Are you serious? Dude, that’s one of the most important events in professional golf. It’s how athletes network with sponsors. How the hell did you end up with a ticket?” Soonyoung asks in disbelief. 

 

“I don’t know, because Mingyu invited me as his guest?”

 

“You know, Mingyu should have invited someone who could actually appreciate the gravity of the event,” Soonyoung teases. “Like….me.”

 

“Yeah, he really should have,” Wonwoo agrees bitterly, all too aware of how Mingyu deserves someone more suitable than him. 

 

“Whoa, I’m sorry, dude. That was only a joke, didn’t mean to hit a nerve. Is everything alright between you two?”

 

“I guess, I don’t know,” Wonwoo says with a shrug. “He’s been so amazing to me, and I guess I’m just confused?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says, “but for a genius you can be pretty fucking dumb sometimes. Obviously he’s doing all this stuff because he likes you!”

 

“He….likes me?”

 

“Of course,” Soonyoung sighs in exasperation. “Who wouldn’t? You’ve got a face like a fucking supermodel, and you’re one of the sweetest, funniest guys I know. You’re such a genuinely good guy—wait, holy shit, are you  _ crying _ ?”

 

“Y-you think that I’m funny?” Wonwoo asks, his voice feeling rough in his throat. “You always say that my jokes are dumb….”

 

“Well, they  _ are _ , but that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is, don’t be so hard on yourself. There’s a reason why this guy wants to spend his time with  _ you _ , and if you weren’t such a dumbass, you’d probably realize it’s because he’s fallen for you!”

 

“Thanks,” Wonwoo mumbles, feeling a sudden rush of gratitude for his roommate. 

 

“Damn, you look good,” Soonyoung says when he steps back to appreciate Wonwoo’s appearance. Wonwoo’s sleek, navy blue tuxedo complements the lines of his slim body perfectly. Mingyu’s ex-husband, Jisoo, clearly knew what he was doing when he tailored it for Wonwoo. 

 

Feeling more confident in himself than ever, Wonwoo greets Mingyu with a broad grin when he stops by their apartment. Mingyu’s hair is pushed back, and he’s wearing a pitch black tuxedo that accentuates his broad shoulders and long legs in a way that makes it suddenly very difficult for Wonwoo to breathe. 

 

“Wow, you look….” Mingyu begins to say, but he’s unable to finish his sentence because the sight of Wonwoo in formalwear has left him speechless. 

 

“Doesn’t he look great?” Soonyoung calls out from the living room. “By the way, Wonwoo, I’m not planning to make it back here tonight, so I don’t mind if you two come here to, you know, fu—”

 

“Hey, why don’t we head out now?” Wonwoo suggests, ushering Mingyu outside and closing the door behind him. 

 

“Was your roommate trying to tell you something?” Mingyu says, his eyebrows lifted slightly in amusement.   

 

“Probably not important. Where are we going?”

 

“Ballroom of the Grand Hyatt. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s gorgeous. Are you cold? Would you like another coat to wear?”

 

“Nope, I’m fine. Let’s go!”

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Saturated pinks and oranges blossom on the horizon as Mingyu drives on the highway like he’s chasing the last rays of evening sunlight. He’s wearing sunglasses to block the glare of the road, and he looks even more like a model with his hair fluttering in the wind. 

 

“So how was your day, Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks conversationally.

 

Mingyu turns to Wonwoo when he doesn’t respond finds that the younger man has dozed off, his neck bent at an unnatural angle as he rests his head on his shoulder. Mingyu turns the music down and pulls over to park by the guard rail. He grabs a pillow from his trunk, slipping it beneath Wonwoo’s cheek to prevent a sore neck later on. Wonwoo’s face is so soft and angelic in sleep that Mingyu is overcome with the sudden desire to kiss his cheek. But he holds himself back and climbs back into the driver’s seat, driving in silence for the rest of the trip. 

 

“Wonwoo. Wonwoo, wake up,” Mingyu urges quietly, lightly shaking Wonwoo by the shoulder. “We’re here.”

 

Wonwoo groans as he rouses from his sleep, disoriented. He blinks confusedly as Mingyu helps him out of the car and closes the door behind him. Wonwoo takes a few shaky steps and then stumbles, but Mingyu catches him and holds him by the waist until they reach the ballroom where the banquet is being held.

 

Even then, Mingyu keeps him close, his palm brushing against Wonwoo’s back every few seconds, always looking for excuses to touch him. Mingyu steers Wonwoo gently by the elbow when he spots a table lined with hors d’oeuvres. 

 

“This is what I came for,” Mingyu explains as he stuffs a mini quiche into each cheek before washing it down with a glass of champagne. 

 

Wonwoo hasn’t been to many fancy events like this, but he suspects that what Mingyu’s behavior isn’t exactly proper. Most passersby turn a blind eye to Mingyu, but a few stare openly in shock and horror as he clears away half the hors d’oeuvres table. Wonwoo is torn between embarrassment and finding Mingyu strangely adorable. 

 

“This was a mistake,” Mingyu groans after his twentieth mini quiche. 

 

“Are you even going to have room for dinner?” Wonwoo asks skeptically.

 

“You underestimate me,” Mingyu says, his chest puffing out in indignation. “I’ll be fine, just give me a few minutes to recover from all that quiche.”

 

Mingyu takes a seat at one of the round dinner tables. A celebrity in the golf world, Mingyu is quickly approached by people dressed to the nines who congratulate him on his nearly flawless performance this year. 

 

“It’s a shame about that last tournament this season, though,” one man muses to Mingyu’s obvious displeasure. A reporter, Wonwoo judges, by the camera hanging around his neck and the notepad in his hand. “You were on a winning streak until that Seungcheol guy came along. Do you feel like he stole that grand slam title from you?”

 

“He played well and earned that victory,” Mingyu says evenly, carefully avoiding any criticism of his opponent. Wonwoo can tell that the answer isn’t satisfying to the reporter.

 

“It has to be frustrating, though, to lose to someone who was relatively unknown until now. Do you know what they’re calling him now?”

 

“What are they calling him?”

 

“ _ S. Coups _ ,” the reporter says, watching Mingyu’s face to gauge his reaction. “Coups for coup d’état. And they’re calling you the fallen king.”

 

“Are they now?” Mingyu says with polite disinterest. 

 

Wonwoo is suddenly glad that Mingyu has such an even temper and doesn’t seem to be easily provoked. The reporter seems to notice this too, because he leaves quickly to find more interesting people to talk to. 

 

Others stop by Mingyu’s table to chat with him, but Wonwoo tunes out their conversations and glances around the ballroom instead. The decorations are lavish and ornate, white and gold accents everywhere. From the ceiling hangs a brilliant crystal chandelier that Wonwoo can’t help but at, mesmerized by the scintillating lights. 

 

“We have the banquet here in this ballroom every year, but I’m always so amazed by how beautiful the chandelier is,” Mingyu says when everyone else has left their table. “It was apparently made by Swarovski in the early 1900s. Isn’t it pretty?”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agrees. He tears his gaze away from the chandelier to look at Mingyu, but a dark afterimage is burned into his vision. He’s trying to blink it away when he catches sight a familiar face in the distance over Mingyu’s shoulder. 

 

It’s Jisoo, hanging onto the arm of some man that Wonwoo doesn’t recognize. They’re clearly together, touching each other too intimately to be on a casual date, but Wonwoo doesn’t recall Mingyu telling him whether or not Jisoo has remarried or started dating again. Judging by the fact that Mingyu went to a rental boyfriend company to find a date for this banquet, Wonwoo assumes that he hasn’t moved on the way that Jisoo clearly has. 

 

“What are you looking at now?” Mingyu asks, noticing that Wonwoo’s gaze is fixed over his shoulder.

 

“Oh, nothing,” Wonwoo says quickly, looking back at Mingyu. 

 

But Mingyu is already turning to follow Wonwoo’s line of vision. Remembering how agitated Mingyu had been the last time he saw Jisoo, Wonwoo figures that he’s the last person that Mingyu would want to see right now. He grabs the lapel of Mingyu’s tuxedo with one hand and his chin with the other hand, pulling Mingyu in for a kiss to distract him. 

 

At the first hasty clash of lips, Mingyu makes a soft, muffled noise of surprise against Wonwoo’s mouth. But Mingyu soon relaxes into the kiss and moves his mouth against Wonwoo’s plush lips. His teeth graze the swell of Wonwoo’s lower lip before he runs his tongue against it to lick the slight sting away. Wonwoo pulls away, startled by the sudden sensuality of the kiss.

 

“Well, hello there,” Mingyu says in a low voice, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

 

“Hi,” Wonwoo says in a small, breathless voice. He feels like firecrackers are exploding in his chest.

 

Mingyu’s eyebrows quirk up, but he doesn’t say anything, turning his attention instead to another pair of arrivals to their table. 

 

“Mind if we sit here?” Jisoo asks, and Wonwoo’s stomach plummets. 

 

“By all means, go ahead,” Mingyu says. To Wonwoo’s relief, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by the sight of Jisoo and his date.

 

“Nice to see you again, Mingyu,” Jisoo’s date says. He turns to Wonwoo to introduce himself. “Hello, my name is Seungcheol. And you are?”

 

“I’m Wonwoo, nice to meet you,” Wonwoo says, accepting Seungcheol’s handshake.

 

_ So this is the rumored S. Coups _ , Wonwoo thinks as he observes the man with his arm slung casually around Jisoo’s shoulder. He’s handsome, but not as handsome as Mingyu. He’s nowhere near Mingyu’s height, either. But Seungcheol has an undeniable charisma about him, stemming from his big, confident smile and infectious laughter. He’s so good natured and humorous that Wonwoo finds himself grinning at Seungcheol’s jokes. 

 

Eventually, the conversation strays to the topic of Seungcheol and Mingyu’s rivalry. 

 

“You’ve heard of that stupid nickname people are calling Seungcheol, right?” Jisoo asks, and Wonwoo tenses automatically. 

 

“I just did, today,” Mingyu says. “S. Coups, right?”

 

“I don’t like it,” Jisoo says immediately. “It makes him sound like a wannabe rapper or something.”

 

“Don’t I keep telling you, baby? I feel like I should retire from golf to launch my rap career,” Seungcheol jokes. “I feel like I’ve got, what do the kids call it,  _ swag _ .”

 

“Just because you accidentally rhyme when you speak sometimes doesn’t make you a rapper,” Jisoo informs him.

 

“Umm, of course it does. I’m a poet, and you don’t even know it,” Seungcheol says, and Jisoo just rolls his eyes.

 

Mingyu grins at Wonwoo and whispers, “You know, sometimes I feel like I was a rapper in a previous life.”

 

“I do too!” Wonwoo agrees with a laugh. 

 

“You guys are all ridiculous,” Jisoo says. 

 

A hush falls over the ballroom at the bright, clear sound of a fork tapping against a glass. An important looking old man makes a few remarks, and then a legion of waiters sweeps into the room carrying silver platters covered with shiny cloches. Mingyu picks the linen napkin off his plate and expertly drops it on his lap in preparation for the first round of their three course meal. Wonwoo watches him carefully to figure out which fork and spoon from the array of cutlery in front of him to use to for each dish. 

 

“Mingyu, that’s your dessert spoon,” Jisoo corrects him when Mingyu starts on his soup.

 

“You know what?” Mingyu says. “I have no idea what I’m doing, so please just let me eat my food in peace.”

 

For some reason, Wonwoo is relieved to discover that Mingyu is apparently just as clueless as he is. 

 

After the main course is brought out, Wonwoo pokes uncertainly at the breaded filet on his plate, unable to discern what kind of meat it is. 

 

“Is something wrong?” Mingyu asks when he sees that Wonwoo isn’t eating.

 

“I’m not sure if this is chicken or fish. I’m allergic to seafood,” Wonwoo explains.

 

“Here, let me try it,” Mingyu offers.

 

Before Wonwoo can say yes or no, Mingyu spears off a corner of the filet and pops it in his mouth. His forehead knits in concentration as he chews, and then he announces, “Definitely chicken. You’re safe.”

 

“Thanks, Mingyu,” Wonwoo says, laughing at his strangely cute expression. 

 

Mingyu continues to take a bite out of everything else on Wonwoo’s plate, even the potatoes, asparagus, and rice. 

 

“I don’t think those have any seafood in them,” Wonwoo says doubtfully. 

 

“Just checking. You can never be too safe,” Mingyu says with a cheek full of food. “You’re welcome for saving your life.”

 

“Thanks,” Wonwoo laughs quietly. And then he points out, “You didn’t try any of my brussels sprouts. You didn’t eat any of the ones on your plate either!”

 

“Too bitter,” Mingyu says, frowning. “I don’t like them.”

 

“What are you, a kid? Even Minghao eats his brussels sprouts!”

 

But Mingyu only pouts childishly, and Wonwoo finishes both of their brussels sprouts. Soon, more waiters return to whisk away their chinaware and cutlery, before distributing a bright orange, creamy dessert served in intricately carved crystal dishes. 

 

“Mango sorbet,” a waiter explains, and Wonwoo and Mingyu both burst out laughing. 

 

“Is it made out of real mangoes?” Mingyu asks to the bewilderment of everyone at the table except for Wonwoo. 

 

“The ingredients for the sorbet are ripe mangoes, water, sugar, and lime juice,” the waiter recites from rote memory. “Do you have any other questions about the dish?”

 

“That’s all, thank you,” Wonwoo says on Mingyu’s behalf, and the waiter leaves with a stiff nod. 

 

Wonwoo punches Mingyu playfully and hisses, “Why would you ask that out loud?”

 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but think about what your friends made for us,” Mingyu says, still chuckling to himself. “I can’t believe they didn’t just tell us they were out of mangoes and thought it would be a better idea to give us a mystery flavor instead.”

 

“I think you offended the poor waiter by doubting the food he brought us,” Wonwoo says, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. 

 

“He’ll be okay,” Mingyu reassures him. 

 

Mingyu reaches under the table to squeeze Wonwoo’s knee, his hand hidden by the table cloth. He keeps his hand there for the rest of dessert, and his touch leaves a burning sensation on Wonwoo’s skin through the fabric of his pants. 

 

The rest of the night feels smooth and dreamlike, no edges anywhere. As he dances with Mingyu after dinner under the glittering chandelier, Wonwoo feels like he’s in a fairy tale. He’s overwhelmed with a kind of happiness he didn’t think was possible. 

 

When the event ends, Mingyu drives Wonwoo back to his apartment under a black velvet sky dotted with pinpricks of starlight. Wonwoo usually, without fail, falls asleep during car rides, but he’s wide awake on the trip back, even though they exchange few words during the ride. 

 

Wonwoo replays moments from the night over and over again in his mind: Mingyu’s hand brushing against Wonwoo’s back, the warmth and weight of Mingyu’s palm on his knee, and most of all, their kiss. An effervescent feeling still sparkles in Wonwoo’s chest when he thinks about the kiss. It still feels so surreal that Wonwoo touches his fingertips to his lips, wondering if it actually happened. 

 

After parking in the dim lot, Mingyu walks Wonwoo to his front door. Under the warm amber glow of lamplight outside Wonwoo’s apartment, Wonwoo catches a strange, hesitant expression on Mingyu’s face. It’s so unlike Mingyu to look so unsure of himself. Wonwoo almost lets himself hope that Mingyu is debating whether or not to kiss him goodnight, until he hears the words that make his heart sink to his feet. 

 

“Thank you for your company tonight. You will be compensated generously for your time,” Mingyu says in a stiff, overly formal voice, sounding nothing like the man who Wonwoo had been laughing and dancing with all night. “I am no longer in need of your services, but I may contact you again in the future in the case that I do.”

 

Mingyu stares at his feet, unable to meet Wonwoo’s troubled stare. 

 

“Mingyu, why—” Wonwoo begins to ask, but his voice betrays him, breaking before he can finish his sentence. 

 

Still, Mingyu doesn’t fail to notice the tautness in Wonwoo’s voice and the struggle on his face. Wonwoo is clearly hurt, but he doesn’t know how to speak of it. Suddenly, Mingyu feels incredibly cruel. 

 

“Goodnight, Wonwoo,” he says, turning away. “Good luck with school.”

 

As he watches Mingyu’s silhouette retreat into the darkness, Wonwoo tries to call out to him, but all the air has left his body, and he can’t make a sound. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

  
  


Mingyu’s chest is burning with pain and guilt as he returns to his car, but he knows that the faster he leaves, the more quickly he can heal. The image of Wonwoo’s hurt expression is seared into his mind, making another wave of heat blossom in his chest as he turns on the ignition. 

 

A muffled staccato beating against Mingyu’s window catches his attention just before he backs out of his parking space. He rolls his window down warily to find Wonwoo peering in with panicky eyes. 

 

“Yes?” Mingyu says tersely, not trusting his voice to stay intact.

 

“I just thought you should know,” Wonwoo gasps, breathing raggedly, “that Junhui and Jeonghan are together, I think. Just in case you were, um….”

 

“Just in case I was what?” Mingyu asks, genuinely confused by the direction Wonwoo is going in.

 

“In case you were interested in dating Junhui,” Wonwoo manages to choke out. Hot tears start spilling out of his eyes, and he buries his face shamefully in his sleeve. 

 

Mingyu rolls up the window, switches off the ignition, and steps out of his car. He holds Wonwoo by the shoulders and presses their foreheads together.

 

“Now why would I  _ ever _ be interested in dating Junhui?” Mingyu asks. 

 

“B-because, isn’t that why you wanted to break up with me?” Wonwoo whispers through his tears. “So you could date someone on your own level, like Junhui….”

 

“Let’s continue this conversation inside,” Mingyu suggests gently. “You’ll catch a cold.”

 

He wraps his arm around Wonwoo’s thin shoulders and leads him back to his doorstep. Wonwoo holds tightly onto Mingyu’s hand as if he’s afraid that Mingyu will slip through his fingers like smoke. 

 

The bowtie is hanging crookedly from Wonwoo’s neck, and his tuxedo is crumpled all over, but Mingyu hasn’t ever seen anything more beautiful than Wonwoo with his slick red lips and dark, wet eyelashes. 

 

“Just so I know what’s going on,” Mingyu says, his fingers steepled in his lap. “What I want to know first is how you plan to proceed in your relationship with Junhui.”

 

Wonwoo frowns, tilting his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, do you think of Junhui the same way you think of me?”

 

“Of course not!”

 

“Then why do you spend so much time with him? Why do you go to his house so often?” Mingyu asks, unable to staunch the accusation creeping into his tone.

 

“Because I babysit his son? Mingyu, what did you think my relationship with Junhui was?”

 

All the doubt and jealousy drains immediately from Mingyu. 

 

“So that was it this whole time?” he says in a low voice, hardly able to believe what Wonwoo is telling him. “You weren’t Junhui’s rental boyfriend? You were just….a babysitter?”

 

Wonwoo bursts into laughter despite the streaks of tears running down his cheeks. “You thought that I was dating Junhui?” he asks incredulously. “I thought  _ you _ wanted to date him.”

 

“Why would I ever look at anyone else when you exist?” Mingyu says with complete seriousness, and Wonwoo’s disbelieving grin shrinks around the edges.

 

“Do you mean that?” Wonwoo asks hoarsely.

 

Mingyu bites his lip and nods, unable to say another word. He closes his eyes and reaches for the nape of Wonwoo’s neck, tilting his head to press their lips together. Their first kiss had felt bittersweet to Mingyu, but as he tastes the salt on Wonwoo’s lips, Mingyu feels nothing but sweetness.

 

Wonwoo blinks when Mingyu pulls away from their sweet, chaste kiss. “Hi,” he breathes. 

 

“Hi,” Mingyu whispers, and he closes his eyes to kiss Wonwoo again, this time with teeth and tongue as his desire for him spills over. 

 

Mingyu lifts Wonwoo onto his lap and makes quick work of his jacket and tie, shedding layer after layer until only a thin undershirt is left. Wonwoo tries to undress Mingyu too, but his fingers fumble with his intricate clothing and Mingyu ends up stripping his own garments off. 

 

They leave an expensive pile of cloth on the floor of Wonwoo’s apartment as they express everything that’s been unsaid through their urgent touches and kisses. 

 

When the heat of the moment has tapered, Wonwoo asks shyly, “So, um, does this mean we’re dating now?”

 

Mingyu grins broadly and says, “I guess it does. Should we pick an anniversary to make it official?”

 

“How about today?” Wonwoo suggests.

 

“Sounds good to me.” Mingyu looks at his watch and then frowns slightly. “Well, it’s past midnight so I guess technically tomorrow?”

 

“Tomorrow would be today then, right? Or is today tomorrow?”

 

“You know what, who cares?” Mingyu laughs, cupping Wonwoo’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

 

Wonwoo feels a slight roughness against his skin from a callus in the crevice of Mingyu’s thumb, but all other sensations melt away as he’s overwhelmed by the softness of Mingyu’s lips. 

 

The moment is ruined by the growl of Mingyu’s stomach. 

 

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, amazed by Mingyu’s formidable appetite. 

 

“Sorry,” Mingyu apologizes in embarrassment. “The god of eating is calling out from my stomach.”

 

“I can see that,” Wonwoo laughs quietly. “Do you want some food?”

 

Mingyu nods eagerly, and Wonwoo raids his fridge in search of something quick and filling. Wonwoo finds little in the refrigerator besides milk, orange juice, and some sketchy looking takeout leftovers. It doesn’t seem that Soonyoung has made it to the grocery store yet this week even though it’s his turn to replenish their food supply. 

 

Half-empty bags of frozen veggies clutter the freezer, and the only immediately edible thing that Wonwoo finds is a tub of cookie dough ice cream, miraculously intact. 

 

“Is this okay?” Wonwoo asks, lifting up the container for Mingyu to see.

 

Mingyu tilts his head thoughtfully as though listening for something. Then he nods and says, “Yes. The god of eating is pleased.”

 

Smiling to himself at Mingyu’s sense of humor, Wonwoo scoops a generous amount of ice cream into two ceramic bowls. 

 

“Wah, that’s cold,” Wonwoo says with a shiver when he takes his first bite of the ice cream. 

 

Mingyu’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement, and he says, “I bet I can finish this faster than you.”

 

“You’re on.”

 

Wonwoo matches Mingyu scoop for scoop as they wolf down painfully cold mouthfuls of ice cream. Surprisingly, Wonwoo reaches the bottom of his bowl more quickly than Mingyu does. He immediately decides that victory isn’t worth it when he receives an awful brain freeze as a reward for his efforts.

 

“Looks like you’ve won,” Mingyu notes, impressed by Wonwoo’s unexpected gluttony.

 

“But at what cost,” Wonwoo groans. “I don’t want to eat cookie dough ice cream ever again.”

 

“Forgive me for making you taste it one more time then,” Mingyu whispers. He kisses Wonwoo with the sweet, creamy flavor of ice cream still on his tongue. 

 

It’s chilly in Wonwoo’s apartment, but he feels warm and safe in Mingyu’s arms when they’re curled up together under Wonwoo’s thick duvet. His extra long twin sized mattress is a tight squeeze with the two of them together, even with Mingyu’s feet hanging off the edge. Wonwoo has to lay on top of Mingyu’s chest just for them to fit. 

 

“Is this okay?” Wonwoo asks, worried about whether or not Mingyu can breathe.

 

“It’s perfect,” Mingyu says, grinning like Wonwoo weighs nothing to him. 

 

Their chests are bare now as they’ve stripped down to only their underwear. Wonwoo rests his cheek against Mingyu’s bicep and then frowns when the firm muscle suddenly goes hard.

 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Wonwoo complains.

 

“Do what?” Mingyu asks innocently as he continues to flex his bicep against Wonwoo’s face.

 

Wonwoo tries to wriggle out of Mingyu’s grip, and Mingyu laughs, “No, come back! I won’t do it again, I promise. Your reactions are too cute.”

 

After kissing Wonwoo breathless to make up for his prank, Mingyu says, “I’m sorry for hurting you and for making you think that I didn’t love you.”

 

“I forgive you,” Wonwoo says. “I was just….confused. About why you were being so kind to me when I was just a rental boyfriend. And I was scared of falling for you because I thought this would be temporary.”

 

“I understand,” Mingyu says hoarsely, feeling guilt with fresh pain. “When I signed up with the rental boyfriend company, I really didn’t think that something like this would happen. I was just looking for a date so that I wouldn’t have to go to the banquet alone. I never thought I’d meet someone I would actually fall in love with.”

 

“But why did we go on other dates before the banquet? What was the point?”

 

Mingyu shrugs. “Because I wanted to get to know you first? Because you’re cute and I wanted to spend as much time with you as possible before I no longer had an excuse to.”

 

It’s a reasonable explanation, but there’s one more thing Wonwoo is wondering about. “Why were you so mysterious about our first meeting? What was the deal with using a fake name and then pretending to stand up your date?”

 

“I wanted to see your reaction when you realized that I was actually a famous athlete,” Mingyu explains, and then he pouts. “But that didn’t work, because you still didn’t know who I was.”

 

“You’re so silly,” Wonwoo laughs, flicking Mingyu gently on the forehead. 

  
They whisper and giggle about everything and nothing until they run out of words as drowsiness washes over them. Wonwoo decides then that falling asleep in Mingyu’s arms might just be the best thing in the world. 


	9. Chapter 9

The semester dwindles down to the last couple of weeks before finals, a period of bliss for Wonwoo punctuated by frequent dates with Mingyu. Sometimes they take spontaneous day trips, but the dates that Wonwoo likes the most are the ones that involve napping in Mingyu’s arms. 

 

Just before reading period begins, Soonyoung persuades Wonwoo to sign up for a coffeehouse event for students to perform music and poetry. 

 

“You can play that song you’ve been working on all semester!” Soonyoung encourages him. “I bet it’s great, I’ve been wanting to hear it for a long time.”

 

“I don’t feel like it’s ready yet, but I guess I could give it a shot,” Wonwoo says hesitantly.

 

“That’s the spirit! And who cares if it isn’t finished in your eyes? I promise, nobody else will even notice.”

 

“Are you performing at the coffeehouse?” Wonwoo asks.

 

“You bet I am,” Soonyoung says with a suspicious looking grin.

 

Wonwoo has never heard of Soonyoung singing or playing any instruments, so he figures that Soonyoung will be performing slam poetry or something. But even then, he can’t imagine Soonyoung taking the time to sit down and write a poem. It just doesn’t fit his personality. 

 

They’re accompanied to the coffeehouse by an entourage of laxbros, Soonyoung’s teammates coming to support him. They’re a rowdy group led by their captain, a senior named Park Chanyeol, who’s the rowdiest one of all. But they quickly quiet down once they reach the venue, a cozy cafe with a makeshift stage set up in the corner. 

 

A man with dark hair pushed back from his ivory forehead is sitting on a stool in the middle of a stage, chatting with audience members. He tilts his head back as he laughs with a crinkly eye smile and a mouth full of big white teeth. 

 

“That’s Joonmyun, a PhD student here,” Soonyoung explains to Wonwoo. “He’s the emcee for the event. He’s also Chanyeol’s boyfriend, they’ve been together since Chanyeol was a freshman.” 

 

For some reason, it lifts Wonwoo’s heart to find out that someone close to their age is in a long term, committed relationship with another man. It makes him feel like anything could be possible.

 

Wonwoo scans the crowd for Mingyu before he takes a seat next to Soonyoung and his teammates. He had invited him without hoping too much for him to make it. As a professional athlete and an entrepreneur, Mingyu is very busy, and Wonwoo knows that he can’t expect too much of him. But he’s still a little disappointed that Mingyu won’t be there to hear him perform his song for the first time. 

 

When it’s Wonwoo’s turn to go onstage, he picks a few notes and adjusts the tuning pegs before introducing himself.

 

“Hey everyone, my name is Wonwoo. I’d like to play a song I wrote, it’s called….” Wonwoo pauses when a familiar figure enters the cafe and quietly slips into a seat near the back of the audience. It’s Mingyu, who gives him a thumbs up. A smaller man who Wonwoo doesn’t recognize is sitting next to him.

 

Wonwoo clears his throat lightly and continues, “It’s called  _ 20 _ . Hope you guys like it.”

 

He closes his eyes and croons the lyrics as his fingers strum the wistful melody. When he opens his eyes again, he vaguely registers that the audience is cheering for him, but all sounds are muted by a rush in his ears from the excitement of performing in front of Mingyu. The grin on Mingyu’s face stretches from ear to ear as he applauds for Wonwoo with almost an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm. The man sitting next to him is clapping too, nodding in approval.

 

After putting his guitar away, Wonwoo joins Mingyu, who squeezes his hand when he sits next to him. 

 

“Great job,” he whispers into Wonwoo’s ear as the next performer adjusts the microphone.

 

“Thanks,” Wonwoo whispers back.

 

His fingers are still trembling, jittery with nerves. Mingyu notices this and brings Wonwoo’s hands up to his lips to kiss his knuckles and palms until his hands stop shaking. Wonwoo looks around, but everyone surrounding him is too enraptured with the performance onstage to notice Mingyu’s achingly intimate act of tenderness. 

 

After a few more performances, it’s Soonyoung’s turn. Wonwoo still isn’t sure exactly what Soonyoung is up to, but it somehow doesn’t come as a surprise when Soonyoung announces, “Today I will be performing an interpretive dance of an octopus.”

 

It raises some eyebrows in the audience, but Chanyeol, Seokmin, and the other laxbros cheer loudly for him in encouragement. 

 

Soonyoung’s face goes serious, and he forms an octopus with his hands: one hand curled into a fist, his other fingers undulating gracefully underneath it. He does this for about a minute and then bows and promptly walks offstage. The audience sits in a shocked silence for a moment until Seokmin starts applauding furiously for him. Their other teammates join in his enthusiastic support for Soonyoung, but there’s only a smattering of applause from the rest of the bewildered audience.

 

When the coffeehouse is over, Soonyoung leaves with his lacrosse teammates to eat pizza like they always do after home games. Mingyu takes Wonwoo along with the man who he introduces as Jihoon to a classy Italian restaurant not too far from where Soonyoung and his friends are gorging on pizza. 

 

“I’ve never been here before,” Jihoon notes while they’re poring over their menus. “I’ll just have whatever you have, Mingyu.”

 

“I haven’t been here, either,” Mingyu says. “I’ll have whatever you order, Wonwoo.”

 

For some reason, all the responsibility for choosing dishes is conferred onto Wonwoo even though it’s also his first time dining at the restaurant. Thankfully Mingyu and Jihoon both seem to enjoy the lasagna Wonwoo ends up picking. 

 

Before Wonwoo has a chance to take a bite of his own lasagna, Mingyu reaches across the table to steal a bite of his serving. 

 

“Just checking to make sure it’s not seafood,” Mingyu says playfully, his cheek bulging with Wonwoo’s food.

 

“I don’t think that they would put seafood in this,” Wonwoo says. “And our orders are exactly the same, you could have just tasted your own!”

 

“But I wanted a bite of yours!”

 

“Okay, but your bites are bigger than normal people’s bites!” 

 

“I’m glad you guys found each other,” Jihoon says, speaking up for the first time since their orders arrived. His voice is surprisingly low, given his small, cute appearance. “How did you guys meet again?”

 

Mingyu and Wonwoo exchange knowing glances, and then Mingyu finally says, “A dating website?”

 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Wonwoo agrees, hiding an embarrassed smile behind his hand. “How did you two meet?”

 

“We went to college together,” Mingyu explains. “Jihoon is a producer in New York now, but he’s visiting family here for the weekend.”

 

“Oh! Right,” Wonwoo says, suddenly remembering Mingyu’s offer to introduce him to his producer friend.

 

“That song that you sang at the coffeehouse,” Jihoon says, addressing Wonwoo. “Did you write it yourself?”

 

“Yes,” Wonwoo says.

 

“It was good. I liked it.” Jihoon doesn’t exude enthusiasm the way that Mingyu does when it comes to Wonwoo’s music, but Wonwoo can tell that Jihoon’s compliment is sincere. 

 

“Thank you, that means a lot to me.”

 

“Although,” Jihoon muses, “instead of playing it in a minor key, I think you could make it a major key instead. I feel the longing in your lyrics, but I think that the minor key makes it sound…..forlorn, a little too melancholy, you know?”

 

“Ahh, okay. Thank you,” Wonwoo says, nodding gratefully. “The song is still a work in progress, I’ll keep that in mind as I continue writing it.”

 

Jihoon closes his eyes and quietly sings Wonwoo’s lyrics with a slightly altered melody. “ _ I wanna be your morning baby / From now on, be alright / Spend it together, morning baby / I want you to be my night _ .” 

 

Wonwoo is astonished by how sweet and clear Jihoon’s voice is, as well as the fact that Jihoon kept ahold of both the lyrics and melody in his head. 

 

“Something like that,” Jihoon says nonchalantly, like it came effortlessly to him, which it probably did.

 

“Wow, thank you!” Wonwoo says. Jihoon smiles, tiny dimples appearing on his cheeks. 

 

“This lasagna is great,” Mingyu says, clearly feeling left out of the music discussion. 

 

“Isn’t it?” Wonwoo agrees. “It probably tasted even better when you stole it from my plate.”

 

“I’m really considering adding lasagna to the 17 Carat menu, because this stuff is really something.”

 

“But that wouldn’t fit in with the rest of the menu, would it?” Jihoon asks doubtfully. “17 Carat is mostly bar food, like burgers right?”

 

“You could make lasagna burgers,” Wonwoo suggests. 

 

“I have no idea what a lasagna burger would be like, but it sounds like a great idea,” Mingyu says.

 

“I hope you’re not in charge of the menu!” Jihoon teases. “By the way, Mingyu, I heard rumors that you’re moving to Los Angeles?” 

 

Mingyu’s smile dims as the upturned corners of his mouth sink. He glances uneasily at Wonwoo, who is watching Mingyu with uncomprehending eyes.

 

“Where did you hear that from?” Mingyu asks quietly. 

 

“Jisoo told me when I visited him earlier. He found out from Seungcheol. Is it true?”

 

A knot rises in Wonwoo’s throat when he hears Mingyu’s hoarse answer.

 

“I haven’t made an official announcement yet, but probably, yes,” Mingyu says. “My coach is opening a new golf course in Los Angeles. He’s relocating to the West coast, and I’ll be moving with him.”

 

“When are you going?” Jihoon asks to Wonwoo’s relief, because Wonwoo doesn’t trust himself to speak at the moment. 

 

“In February when pre-season training begins. I’ll stay here on the East coast until then.”

 

“Well, good luck,” Jihoon says. “Let me know if you need any help moving, I’ve got some friends in LA who I could call up for you.”

 

“Thanks, I’ll definitely let you know,” Mingyu says before quickly changing the subject. 

 

But the thought of Mingyu moving so far away lingers at the edge of Wonwoo’s thoughts all evening. 

 

After they drop Jihoon off at his hotel, Mingyu finally addresses the specter hanging over their strained conversation.

 

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu whispers. “I wanted to tell you as soon as possible, but I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want for you to find out this way. I had no idea that Seungcheol would figure it out that quickly and tell people.”

 

“I understand,” Wonwoo says, squeezing Mingyu’s hand. “I know it’s going to be hard since you’ll be so far away, but I know that we can make it work. Because I love you.”

 

Mingyu smiles shakily and says, “I love you too.”

  
  
  
  


Wonwoo has only intermittent contact with Mingyu during his finals. Mingyu had the foresighht that he would have been too much of a distraction, so he limits his interactions with Wonwoo to encouraging text messages and an hour or two of cuddling after each of Wonwoo’s exams. The restraint during those two weeks pays off, because Wonwoo gets to spend as much time in Mingyu’s arms as he wants when finals are over.

 

Soonyoung returns to his parents’ home for winter vacation, so Wonwoo moves into Mingyu’s apartment for the last several weeks of December and the first couple weeks of January. Every morning still feels like a miracle when Wonwoo wakes up with his head on Mingyu’s chest. Mingyu’s king sized bed is considerably larger than Wonwoo’s twin sized, but their most comfortable position is still Wonwoo curled up as closely as possible against Mingyu’s body.

 

The first lazy couple of weeks pass more blissfully than Wonwoo can even believe, as he spends most of it by Mingyu’s side. Not long before Christmas, Wonwoo receives a call from Seungkwan’s mother asking him if he could watch over Seungkwan, Chan, and Hansol for an afternoon as their mothers go Christmas shopping together. 

 

Snow is drifting lazily onto a thick layer of white fluff on the ground when Wonwoo arrives at Seungkwan’s house. The three boys are already bundled in snow gear with only their eyes, flushed cheeks, and red tipped noses peeking through their hats and scarves. Seungkwan and Chan are busy building a snowman—or rather, Seungkwan is busy bossing Chan around and telling him what to do. Hansol is building his own snow  _ thing _ by himself a few feet away from the other two boys.

 

Even when Wonwoo kneels down next to Hansol, he still can’t tell exactly what it is.

 

“What’s that you’re making?” Wonwoo asks, pointing at the elongated pile of snow in front of Hansol.

 

“A snow carrot!” Hansol explains, beaming proudly at Wonwoo.

 

“Ah, I see it now,” Wonwoo says. “You keep doing you, kiddo.”

 

He pats Hansol fondly on the head and checks on Seungkwan and Chan when he hears them bickering over their snowman. 

 

“The head looks weird,” Seungkwan says. “You should make it more round.”

 

“Why do I have to do it?” Chan whines. “You haven’t done anything!”

 

“I have an idea, boys,” Wonwoo interrupts. “Why don’t we have a snowball fight instead?”

 

Seungkwan and Chan immediately forget about their argument and start cheering in support of Wonwoo’s idea. Hansol doesn’t catch what Wonwoo said, but he starts clapping happily too when he sees that his friends are excited.

 

“Let’s divide into teams,” Wonwoo suggests. “Seungkwan and Chan versus Hansol and me.”

 

His proposal is met with an immediate outcry of disapproval from Seungkwan. 

 

“That’s not fair!” Seungkwan grumbles. “Why does Hansol get to team up with a big kid when I have to team up with a little kid?”

 

“I’m not a little kid!” Chan complains. “I’m five years old!”

 

“Okay, okay,” Wonwoo says, trying to appease the two boys. “How about this instead—Seungkwan, Chan, and Hansol versus me.”

 

This seems to satisfy Chan and Seungkwan, but Hansol seems a little disappointed that he doesn’t get to be teammates with Wonwoo. 

 

Hansol tugs at Wonwoo’s sleeve and whispers, “When we played together before, you said that we could always be teammates no matter what, because we’re like a unit.”

 

It’s moments like these that remind Wonwoo how much children pick up on and remember. 

 

“I’m sorry, Hansol,” Wonwoo says with genuine regret. He offers Hansol his pinky for a pinky promise. “Next time, okay? We’ll be teammates again, I promise.”

 

“Let’s be a unit again soon,” Hansol says, accepting Wonwoo’s pinky promise.

 

Before they’ve finished making snowballs, a tall, bulky figure approaches the yard. Chan squeals in horror at the sight until Seungkwan points out, “Look, it’s Minghao!” 

 

More accurately, it’s Jeonghan trudging through the snow, carrying Minghao on his back. Jeonghan’s hair is pulled back in two pigtails, which Minghao tugs on as though steering Jeonghan. 

 

“We saw a commotion going on across the street, so we came here to check it out,” Jeonghan explains. “Is it alright if Minghao joins you guys?”

 

“What do you think, boys?” Wonwoo asks, turning to the kids for their opinion.

 

His question is met with a resounding “yes!” from Seungkwan, Hansol, and Chan in chorus. With four kids now, Wonwoo is kicked out of the game, and they divide into teams of two: Minghao and Chan versus Seungkwan and Hansol. 

 

“So, are you off school now?” Jeonghan asks Wonwoo as they supervise the snowball fight that ensues.

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo confirms. “My final exams ended a couple weeks ago.”

 

“Congrats. How are things going with Mingyu?”

 

Wonwoo isn’t sure exactly how much Jeonghan knows about his relationship with Mingyu, but since they seem close, he admits, “I’m staying with him over winter break.”

 

Jeonghan’s eyebrows lift in mild surprise, but he doesn’t seem to be judgmental of them. “Glad to hear things are going well. Mingyu’s a good guy, even though he can be a bit of an idiot sometimes.”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agrees with a quiet laugh. “If you don’t mind me asking, how are things with you and Junhui?”

 

A dazzling smile curls Jeonghan’s lips. His voice is a little dreamy when he answers, “Great. He told Minghao the other day that Dad was finally seeing someone again. It almost broke his little heart until Minghao found out that it was me.”

 

“Minghao really seems to like you,” Wonwoo observes.

 

“I’d like to think he does. That little boy’s heart is so full of love,” Jeonghan sighs. “Just like his dad.”

 

“Are you living together now?”

 

“We sure are. I work late at night, so I’m home all day until Junhui gets home. Junhui helps Minghao get ready for school and takes him to the bus stop in the morning. I pick Minghao up from the bus stop, and then Junhui comes home and helps Minghao with his homework when I go to work.”

 

“Wow, that seems to work out perfectly.”

 

“It really does. It’s so nice, being settled down for the first time in my life. My entire day revolves around taking care of Minghao, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

 

“I’m really happy for you and Junhui,” Wonwoo says genuinely. 

 

“Thank you,” Jeonghan says with a satisfied little smile. “You know, you and Mingyu should come over for Christmas dinner if you two don’t have other plans. Junhui and I are planning to make a big meal, so the more the merrier.”

 

“We’d definitely love to, thanks for the invitation.”

 

There’s a sudden burst of snow against Jeonghan’s cheek, and when Jeonghan and Wonwoo look over to see who threw the snowball, the four children all have their hands hidden behind their backs, looking scared and guilty. 

 

“You kids better watch out, because Jeonghannie is coming to get you!” Jeonghan threatens playfully, reaching down to pack the dusty snow into a ball.

 

“Everybody, hide from the big kids!” Seungkwan screams, as Wonwoo and Jeonghan chase the children around the yard until they all collapse into the soft snow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know if any of you have figured this out already, but this fic actually takes place in the same universe as my exo laxbros au "boys grow up unexpectedly." just thought i'd include that little bit of suyeol to tie up some loose ends from my exo fic ^__^;;;


	10. Chapter 10

 

After dinner on Christmas eve with Junhui, Jeonghan, and Minghao, Wonwoo wakes up early on Christmas morning to prepare his present for Mingyu. He feels silly, sneaking off to the bathroom at seven in the morning to put on a pair of cat ears and to fix a bowtie around his neck. 

 

It was Soonyoung’s stupid idea. He had given Wonwoo the cat ears he found at a Halloween frat party and told him to wear it with his bowtie and nothing else. Wonwoo draws on whiskers with a black eyeliner that Soonyoung also scavenged from a frat party.

 

He crawls back into bed and licks Mingyu’s face to wake him up, dragging the flat of his tongue from his jaw to his cheek. 

 

Mingyu flails awake, startled by Wonwoo’s wake up call. 

 

“Merry Christmas,” Wonwoo grins. “Your present is me. I’m your pet cat today.”

 

“God you’re so cute,” Mingyu groans, “Come here.”

 

Wonwoo decides that even though most of Soonyoung’s ideas are stupid, he might have a good one now and then. 

 

By the time spring semester begins in late January, Wonwoo has gotten dangerously accustomed to waking up in Mingyu’s arms. Even when Wonwoo’s classes are in full swing, they try to make as much time for each other as they can during their last few weeks together before Mingyu moves to LA. There’s a bittersweet flavor edging into their kisses now, which Wonwoo tries to ignore before the pain tears his heart in two. 

 

It’s the last week before Mingyu has to leave when Soonyoung asks Wonwoo if he has any plans for Valentine’s Day that weekend.

 

“Are you trying to ask me out?” Wonwoo jokes. “I know we’ve gotten close over the past couple years, but you’re a little late to the game, buddy.”

 

“No,” Soonyoung says, shaking his head vehemently. “I just wanted to know if you and Mingyu are doing anything special for Valentine’s Day on Saturday.”

 

Saturday, the day of Mingyu’s flight to LA. He had actually forgotten that it would also be Valentine’s Day. Wonwoo considers for a moment and then says, “I don’t think so.”

 

“Umm, yes you are,” Soonyoung corrects. “First lacrosse game of the season this Saturday!”

 

“How could I forget,” Wonwoo grins.

 

The stadium is chilly with flecks of snow swirling through the blustery February air, but Wonwoo’s hands are warm clasped in Mingyu’s under the blanket draped across their laps. 

 

“I don’t know that much about lacrosse,” Mingyu admits. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

 

“It’s kind of hard to follow since it’s so fast paced and the ball is so small. But see those two crouched in the center there? Our guy, Jongdae, is a face-off specialist. Once he steals the ball and passes it to our team, he’ll leave the field—like that, see?”

 

Wonwoo knows little about sports in general, but being Soonyoung’s roommate and best friend for the past two and a half years has transformed him into a lacrosse expert. 

 

“Where’s Soonyoung?” Mingyu asks, unable to discern the players’ identities through their helmets. “Is he on the field?”

 

“Yeah, he’s a midfielder! His jersey number is 96, do you see him near the line in the center? Look, he just passed the ball to Sehun and oh—ouch, he just got hit in the back. That’s actually a foul. It’s called a body check, and it’s illegal when you don’t have the ball.”

 

Barely keeping pace with the rapid exchanges, Mingyu asks, “Who’s in possession of the ball now? I’m sorry, I can’t even tell where the passes are going.”

 

“Jongin, the tall guy on defense has it now. He’s giving it back to Chanyeol in the goal, who’s probably going to pass it across the field. Like that, see?”

 

“I see,” Mingyu says, nodding in comprehension. “I think I’m starting to understand it better now.”

 

“You know, the funny thing about Jongin is, I used to think that he kind of looks like you.”

 

Mingyu narrows his eyes as though trying to scrutinize the defender, who is thumb sized from their position in the stands. 

 

“I'm definitely taller and more handsome,” Mingyu decides. 

 

“You can't even see him from here!” Wonwoo laughs. He admits, “But sometimes when I see him on campus I think that he's you.”

 

“Must be disappointing when you realize he's just another laxbro.”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agrees, remembering all the times his heart did a little flip at the sight of a tall man with tanned skin, just to sink in disappointment when he realizes that it's only Jongin. 

 

Soonyoung assists Baekhyun in scoring a goal for their team, and Wonwoo leaps to his feet to sing the fight song at the top of his lungs. He knows the words by heart by this point, now that he’s attended almost every one of Soonyoung’s home games. Mingyu doesn’t know the words, so he just claps along and scrambles for their blanket when it almost flutters away in the wind. 

 

The game ends in their school’s first win of the season. Wonwoo rushes to the sidelines to congratulate Soonyoung, who reaches over the chain link fence to give Wonwoo a hug. His cheeks are flushed from the cold and his sweaty bangs are sticking to his forehead, but he’s grinning widely.

 

“You were so amazing,” Wonwoo gushes, feeling the giddy rush of victory. 

 

“Thanks! So glad you could make it today, Wonwoo. You too, Mingyu!” Soonyoung says. “I think the captain’s crying, so we’re probably gonna head back to the locker room now. Catch you later, guys!”

 

“You seem to know a lot about lacrosse,” Mingyu notes when they’re walking to a bus station to take a shuttle to the airport. “Have you played it before?”

 

He’s holding onto Wonwoo’s hand, both their hands stuffed into his pocket for warmth. The blanket is wrapped around Wonwoo’s shoulders like a cape. 

 

“Nope, Soonyoung taught me everything. We spent a lot of time watching lacrosse together our freshman year. I stayed at his house over winter break that year, and we just spent entire weekend watching his recordings of that year’s Big Ten tournament.”

 

“You know, I’m kind of jealous of Soonyoung.”

 

“Why?” Wonwoo asks curiously.

 

“Because he gets spend so much time with you every day.”

 

All of Mingyu’s belongings have already been shipped to his new apartment in LA. They’re both painfully aware that it’s the last chance they’ll be able to see each other again for an indefinite period of time. 

 

They consciously avoided the topic during their last few weeks together, but it’s all too real now that Wonwoo is accompanying Mingyu to the airport to see him off. It finally starts to sink in, just how much Wonwoo has become a part of Mingyu’s life and vice versa. Their touches have become so casual and reflexive the longer they’ve spent in each other’s company, that it feels unnatural for them to be apart. 

 

The silence between Mingyu and Wonwoo is deafening when they sit side by side on the bus to the airport, only their knees touching and pinky fingers intertwined. Even though there’s no external exchange of words, they both know exactly what is on the other’s mind. 

 

“Should I get off too?” Wonwoo asks in a brittle voice as they approach the bus stop outside of the airport.

 

“You can come if you want,” Mingyu shrugs with an air of indifference. “You don’t need to waste your time.”

 

“Of course it’s not a waste of time,” Wonwoo says, and he follows Mingyu out of the bus to the airport lobby. 

 

Wonwoo accompanies him as far as he can go, until they find the check-in kiosk for Mingyu’s airline. Then it’s time for them to part ways. 

 

“So, um, I guess this is goodbye,” Wonwoo says. His throat feels raw and jagged as tears prick behind his eyes, threatening to spill out. 

 

Mingyu doesn’t respond, just grabs Wonwoo, pulling him in for a fierce hug. He holds onto Wonwoo in an embrace that seems to stretch on for a lifetime, but passes by in an instant. His voice is low and harsh when he whispers, “I don’t want to go.”

 

“Don’t be silly. You have to.”

 

“Don’t wanna,” Mingyu whines like a child without letting go of Wonwoo.

 

“You’ll miss your flight,” Wonwoo urges gently.

 

“I don’t care. I want to stay here with you.”

 

“You need to leave before I make you go,” Wonwoo threatens playfully, but he just squeezes Mingyu even tighter in his arms. 

 

Eventually, Mingyu’s grip loosens and he mumbles, “I have to go now, Wonwoo.”

 

Wonwoo’s voice finally breaks and he whimpers, “Please don’t go.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

  
  


The door to Wonwoo’s bedroom is closed when Soonyoung returns from lacrosse practice. It’s that time of week again. Soonyoung smiles when he hears muted laughter from inside Wonwoo’s room, because he knows that there’s only one person who can make Wonwoo laugh that happily, besides himself. And then Wonwoo’s voice drops to a low, indistinct murmur before tapering away altogether. 

 

Soonyoung hears a dreadful silence followed by quiet sniffles. 

 

When Wonwoo emerges from his bedroom with damp eyes and a red, runny nose, the sight of him just about breaks Soonyoung’s heart. 

 

Despite how lost and lonely as Wonwoo feels during the days when Mingyu doesn’t have time to talk to him, Mingyu always manages to make Wonwoo grin like an idiot even when they’re hundreds of miles apart. Talking to Mingyu just has a way of making Wonwoo forget about everything that makes him worried or sad. But as soon as Mingyu turns off the camera, Wonwoo breaks down crying because he misses him so much. 

 

He doesn’t dare let Mingyu see his tears. He knows that Mingyu has infinitely more important things to worry about, such as his career. The last thing Wonwoo wants to be is a distraction to Mingyu in a time when his performance and reputation are on the line. 

 

“How is he?” Soonyoung asks gently. 

 

Dabbing the hem of his sleeves to his eyes, Wonwoo mumbles, “He’s fine. Busy with training.”

 

“I bet. Do you know if he’ll be able to come visit anytime soon?”

 

Wonwoo shrugs and plops onto the sofa. He covers his eyes with his arms folded over his face. “After training, he’ll start competing, so he’ll be even more busy travelling to matches and tournaments.”

 

Soonyoung nods. “I see.”

 

For once, Soonyoung is at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say that could possibly console Wonwoo. He knows how happy Mingyu makes Wonwoo when he gets a chance to see his face and how much it tears him apart every time they say goodbye at the end of their weekly video calls. 

 

“You know,” Soonyoung finally says, “they always say that the first month is the hardest. When you’re still getting used to being apart.”

 

Wonwoo moves an arm away from his face to look at Soonyoung. “Who’s they?” he asks glumly. 

 

“I don’t know, romance novels and shit.”

 

“Do you read a lot of those, Soonyoung?” Wonwoo asks, the edge of his mouth tilting up in amusement.

 

Soonyoung makes an indignant expression. “Contrary to popular belief, I actually  _ do _ know how to read, and yes, I do enjoy a good romance novel now and then.”

 

Wonwoo chuckles and sits up when Soonyoung squeezes onto the cushion next to his. 

 

“What would I do without you?” Wonwoo sighs, resting his head on Soonyoung’s shoulder. 

  
  
  
  


To Wonwoo’s surprise, Mingyu sends him a text message asking to video chat before a day has even passed since their last call. 

 

_ Good news _ , Mingyu’s text reads, and Wonwoo’s pulse quickens in anticipation.  _ Call me when you can _ . 

 

Mingyu is in his car when the call connects. He’s shielding his eyes from the bright afternoon sunlight, even though it’s already dark where Wonwoo is. 

 

“Are you busy?” Mingyu asks, holding up his phone so that the front facing camera captures his face at a more flattering angle. 

 

“No,” Wonwoo says. “I was just about to wash the dishes. What’s up?’

 

“I just wanted to let you know that you’ll get to see me soon.”

 

Mingyu grins, and Wonwoo’s chest inflates with hope. 

 

“When?” Wonwoo asks breathlessly.

 

“April 1st,” Mingyu says. “On television. First tournament of the season.”

 

Suddenly that sparkling, fizzing feeling of hope is smothered. 

 

“Oh,” Wonwoo says, trying not to sound too disappointed. He forces a smile and hopes that his excitement doesn’t ring false. “Good luck! You can do it!”

 

“We’ll see. Jisoo is coming all the way over here to watch Seungcheol compete. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I beat him.”

 

“I know you will,” Wonwoo tells him.

 

“Anyways, I have to head back to the course now. I just wanted to let you know as soon as I found out about my first tournament!”

 

“Thanks for telling me. I’ll definitely make sure to catch it on ESPN.”

 

Mingyu blows him a kiss, and Wonwoo waves at him. 

 

“Bye,” he whispers, hoping that Mingyu can’t hear the quiver in his voice. 

 

Usually Wonwoo ends the call before he lets his expression change, but this time he can’t turn off his camera in time to hide the hot tears of frustration that start rolling down his cheeks. He misses Mingyu so much, but he feels guilty for being so selfishly disappointed. 

 

“Hold up,” Mingyu says, frowning at the sight of Wonwoo’s obvious unhappiness. “We’re not hanging up yet.”

 

“You have to go,” Wonwoo mumbles. 

 

“I’m staying until I see you smile again, okay? No crying by yourself and trying to hide your sadness. I love you, remember? And I want to be the reason that you smile, not cry.”

 

Already, Wonwoo’s heart starts to lift with the reminder of just how much Mingyu loves him. 

 

“I know,” Wonwoo whispers. 

 

Mingyu stays on the phone with Wonwoo for another hour, reassuring him every few minutes that it is really okay for him to hide out in his car to talk to his boyfriend. Wonwoo is worth it. This time, Wonwoo is all smiles when they hang up. 

 

Soonyoung is working on a project the night that Mingyu’s first tournament airs on television, so Wonwoo visits 17 Carat to watch the event without disturbing his roommate. All of the flat screen TVs in the restaurant are tuned to ESPN, and when Wonwoo walks in, Mingyu’s grinning face is on every wall. 

 

Jeonghan beckons Wonwoo over from behind the bar. Wonwoo almost doesn’t recognize the bartender at first—his hair is jet black now, trimmed to just below his chin. 

 

“Long time no see!” Jeonghan greets him with a brilliant smile that gleams white even in the dim restaurant lighting. “How have you been, Wonwoo?”

 

“I’ve been okay,” Wonwoo says. “I like your hair. When did you change it?”

 

“Thanks,” Jeonghan says, absentmindedly twirling a strand around his finger. “I’ve had it like this for a couple of weeks now. I let Minghao blow dry my hair, and it caught on fire by accident. But don’t worry! Minghao didn’t get hurt. And my hair is so much easier to take care of now.”

 

He beams at Wonwoo, who just stares at him for a moment as the story slowly sinks in. 

 

As Mingyu’s profile is displayed on the screen above the bar, Jeonghan brings Wonwoo a cold bottle of beer. “On the house,” Jeonghan explains with a wink. 

 

Half a bottle of beer later, Wonwoo is cheering without any inhibition every time he sees Mingyu make a swing, regardless of whether it’s a real shot or just a warm up swing. He stands up and yells at the television when the camera cuts to Seungcheol after Mingyu’s turn ends, and Jeonghan says, “Let’s dial it down a bit, okay?”

 

Wonwoo sips miserably at the rest of his drink and then folds his arms on the table, sobbing into his elbow. 

 

“Wonwoo,” Jeonghan says cautiously, gently shaking him by the shoulder. “Wonwoo dear, are you alright?”

 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond in any coherent way, so Jeonghan ends up calling someone to cover the rest of his shift. He half-carries Wonwoo to his car and calls Junhui to ask for Wonwoo’s address. After driving Wonwoo back to his apartment and escorting him inside to let his roommate deal with the rest, Jeonghan sends a text message to Mingyu. 

 

_ You need to take better care of your boyfriend _ .

  
  
  
  


It kills Mingyu to discover that the distance still seems to be destroying Wonwoo. With a renewed effort to stay in touch, Mingyu takes the time to call Wonwoo every single night. But soon it gets harder on Wonwoo’s end to maintain contact as his semester picks up in pace. Their calls and messages stretch out until they’re so sparse that they hardly exchange more than a good morning and goodnight. 

 

Mingyu can feel Wonwoo withdrawing from him. He feels so terrible for not making Wonwoo a priority that during a weekend off, Mingyu makes a surprise two day trip to Wonwoo’s campus.

 

There’s a flower shop right next to Mingyu’s hotel. He picks up a bouquet of yellow roses as he waits for the local city bus to arrive. When Mingyu gets off at the bus stop closest to Wonwoo’s apartment, he sees Wonwoo sitting at an outdoor cafe table across the street. It’s been months since they last saw each other in person, but Mingyu would recognize Wonwoo anywhere. 

 

He’s about to call out to Wonwoo when he realizes that he isn’t sitting alone. Mingyu’s stomach clenches with dread when he sees that there’s a girl with short, dark hair sitting across from him. Mingyu takes a deep calming breath to quell the hot spike of jealousy in his chest, but then he sees the girl reach across the table to lace their fingers together. Wonwoo doesn’t do anything to pull away from her. He just grins at the girl in a way that should be reserved for Mingyu. 

 

Suddenly Wonwoo’s gaze drifts over her shoulder and falls on Mingyu standing there, staring at them from across the street. Wonwoo’s eyes widen in surprise at the sight of Mingyu. After a split second of eye contact, Mingyu ducks his head and keeps walking. He dumps the flowers into a trashcan before waiting for another bus to return to his hotel. 

 

Seconds after boarding the bus, Mingyu receives a text message from Wonwoo. 

 

_ I just saw someone who looked just like you? _

  
  
  
  
A knot tightens in Wonwoo’s throat when a read receipt appears, but Mingyu doesn’t respond to his message. Eventually, Mingyu sends a text that just says,  _ Huh. It must have been Jongin again _ .    


	12. Chapter 12

 

That evening, Wonwoo receives an ominous phone call from Mingyu.

 

“Hello?” Wonwoo says warily when he picks up the phone. Lately, Mingyu hasn’t had time to call him out of the blue. It must be something urgent. 

 

Mingyu’s voice is a little muffled when he says, “Hey. We need to talk.”

 

Wonwoo’s stomach drops as his old insecurities resurface once again. “What do we need to talk about?” he asks hesitantly. 

 

He’s convinced that it’s finally happening—Mingyu has finally gotten sick of Wonwoo and he’s decided that their long distance relationship isn’t worth suffering through any longer. 

 

Mingyu just asks, “Where are you right now? Are you busy?”

 

“I’m in my apartment,” Wonwoo answers, his throat feeling tight. “Why? Does it matter? What’s wrong, Mingyu?”

 

“Open the door.”

 

Wonwoo’s heart leaps to his throat when he finds Mingyu waiting outside. It’s been so long since they last saw each other face to face that Wonwoo feels like he’s seeing a ghost. Mingyu looks achingly familiar, like nothing’s changed in the agonizing months they’ve spent apart. His skin tone is tanner from all the hours spent under the California sun, but his radiant boyish smile is still the same. 

 

“God, I missed you,” Mingyu groans, pulling Wonwoo into his arms to kiss him.

 

Mingyu quickly realizes that something isn’t right. Wonwoo is silent as Mingyu rediscovers the curves of his mouth with his lips and tongue, and he stiffens to Mingyu’s touch when he slides his fingers into Wonwoo’s hair. 

 

Wonwoo finally pushes Mingyu away and asks, “What did you want to talk about? Let’s just get this over with, please.”

 

He speaks tersely, but Mingyu can hear the hoarse desperation in his voice. 

 

They sit down, and Mingyu links their fingers together. He can tell that Wonwoo’s mind is distracted and his heart’s a mess, so Mingyu squeezes Wonwoo’s hand gently in an effort to comfort him. Wonwoo’s hand remains limp, unresponsive in his grip, like there’s an awful, unbreachable barrier between them once again. 

 

Wonwoo can’t bring himself to look him in the eye as MIngyu takes an excruciatingly long time to piece his words together. It’s like the most painful part of getting an injection—watching and waiting for the needle to be prepared.

 

Mingyu finally says, “You know I love you, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says in a small voice.

 

Mingyu sighs. “Yeah. I love you in a way I’ve never loved anyone else before. I mean that. You make everyone else I’ve ever loved irrelevant.”

 

“But?” Wonwoo whispers even more quietly.

 

Mingyu frowns and asks, “But what?”

 

“Isn’t there going to be a ‘but’ to that statement?”

 

“Why would there be?”

 

“You came all the way here, aren’t you going to tell me something….important?” Wonwoo is still bracing himself mentally for his heart to be crushed. 

 

“I just came here to remind you that I love you so damn much, since you don’t seem to believe it when I tell you on the phone.”

 

“You came all the way here just to tell me that?” Wonwoo asks, his voice quiet with awe and disbelief. 

 

“I don’t care what you do. I still love you, and I’ll never leave you. But as soon as you decide you don’t want me anymore….” Mingyu’s voice grows rough with pain. He finally finishes in a soft voice, “Please just tell me.”

 

“Wait, Mingyu, what are you talking about? I….haven’t done anything. Why would you think that I want to leave you?” Wonwoo is suddenly even more bewildered than before. 

 

With some difficulty, Mingyu finally admits to catching Wonwoo on a date with a girl earlier that day. Wonwoo’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, and then his face loosens into a grin when he realizes what’s going on.

 

“Mingyu, that wasn’t a girl,” he chuckles. “That was Jeonghan.”

 

“Jeonghan? But Jeonghan’s hair is….”

 

“Black and short now. He had to cut it when he let Minghao blow dry his hair, which made it catch on fire.”

 

“Who would ever let Minghao use a blowdryer?” Mingyu says faintly, still reeling in disbelief.

 

“God, I’m so stupid,” Mingyu groans. “I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you so much and I’ve been so lonely that I just jumped to the worst conclusion again.”

 

Wonwoo tackles Mingyu with a hug and promises, “I’ll make you so unlonely that you’re going to regret ever saying that you were lonely.”

 

For a moment, Wonwoo and Mingyu just look at one another with new eyes before kissing each other with new lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i ended up staying awake until 5 am writing this final little chapter but it was so worth it!!! THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS SUPPORTED THIS STORY, I LOVE YOU GUYS <33333 i am very sleep deprived and hyper right now and around 3 am i realized that i’m probably actually a vernon stan but yes this has been so much fun and i hope to write more seventeen fic again in the future!!!!


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